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handful0fteeth · 4 months

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so fragile (it's getting me off)

stranger kinks 3: boot worship

summary: you flirted with a boy at a party in front of billy, and he's going to make sure he doles out the proper punishment.

pairings: billy hargrove x fem!reader

warnings: smut, minors DNI, explicit language, a lot of dirty talk, heavy degradation, roughness, mean dom!billy, sub!reader, edgeplay, face slapping, safewords, color system, possessiveness, honestly prolly more than a lil toxic but don't worry abt it

words: 3.7k words

You wish Billy didn’t smoke Newports.

You wish he didn’t smoke at all, to be fair – you hate how the stench of it sticks to his curls and clothes, and you especially hate the taste that lingers in his mouth after he finishes a cigarette. You’ve remarked on it many times, usually after you’ve abruptly ended a kiss because it was like licking an ashtray. His response was always the same: a roll of his eyes and a snide, “Don’t be such a baby.”

There’s something particularly foul about Newports, though, at least to you. Their odor is pungent, sharper, more determined to crawl all the way up your nose and get comfortable there so you can’t stop smelling them for hours. You think that maybe if Billy wasn’t puffing away on Newports right now, you’d be slightly less humiliated by your current predicament.

Slightly.

“I didn’t say you could slow down,” he murmurs, barely flicking his eyes in your direction. Like you’re not worth the effort it’d take to tilt his head down to look at you, straddling his leg, skirt hiked up over your hips, cunt grinding down on the toe of his boot. You huff.

“My legs are tired.” They’re on fucking fire, more like. You don’t know how long you’ve been at this, only that the crickets surrounding Billy’s porch have started to chirp louder from the time you began, and the sky has ripened from a hazy, humid navy blue, thick with the promise of summer rain, to solid black. Sweat beads at your hairline and drips smoothly down the curve of your spine; the spots you’ve been gripping for purchase on Billy’s jeans are dark with your perspiration.

“Don’t care.” He takes a long final drag off his cigarette before stubbing it out in the crystal ashtray beside him. The butt hasn’t been smoldering for all of thirty seconds before Billy reaches for his pack and shakes out a new one, sliding it between his teeth and cupping a hand around the end as he flicks his lighter.

“I’m sorry,” you say for the millionth time tonight. The cherry of Billy’s cigarette glows as he inhales deeply, and his free hand darts out to grip your face. You gasp, an action you almost immediately regret because he leans down and blows smoke directly into your open mouth.

His laughter echoes into the night as you sputter and cough, and as much as it infuriates you, your pussy throbs in response to his blatant disrespect, and so you grit your teeth and dig your forehead into his knee as your hips rock faster on his boot.

This is your punishment. Earlier tonight, at a party one of Billy’s “friends” (you’re not sure if the man could forge a genuine friendship if his life depended on it) was throwing, some random drunk guy made it his mission to get your phone number. Billy hadn’t shown up yet, and frankly, you were mad at him anyway – you can’t remember why now, thanks to the lust and embarrassment forming a near-impenetrable fog in your brain – so you entertained him. You were never actually going to give the guy your number; you simply liked the attention, and the knowledge that you were doing something that would make Billy lose his mind so blatantly was thrilling.

Until it wasn’t.

Until Billy snuck up behind you, a solid mass at your back smelling of Newports and rosemary and musk, one hand tangling itself so deep within your hair that when he pulled, it brought tears to your eyes, and he smiled that smile at you that only meant one thing: You are fucked.

He’d watched you half-assedly flirt with the drunken guy for about five minutes before deciding to interrupt, and that five minutes was enough to get him so worked up you could practically feel the anger rolling off of him in waves as he held you taut, eyes bright and shockingly cold, the curl of his lips feline in its threatening nature. It was like a warning, an assurance that if you weren’t in public, he’d have ripped your throat out right there with those gleaming white teeth.

Instead, he brusquely excused the pair of you and led you outside, his grip unwavering and his forearm so stiff against your back you felt a bit like a ventriloquist dummy being puppeteered through the sparse front lawn. The apologies tumbled from your mouth like rocks down a cliffside, but it was as if he didn’t hear you. Or, more accurately, he outright ignored you. Once the prying eyes of his peers were gone, Billy’s carefully contrived façade melted like candle wax until all that was left was this beautiful, blank-faced column of rage that pinned you against the door of his car so hard you knew you’d have bruises.

“The fuck was that?” he spat, and you opened your mouth to answer, but clearly, it was a rhetorical question because he slapped a hand over your lips before they could produce a single sound.

“I’m not around for five minutes and you’re already trying to give it away to some Hawkins hillbilly? Seriously, Y/N? Acting like you don’t belong to anyone, like I don’t fucking exist? What, I don’t give you enough attention so you wanna slut out for a fucking hick, is that it?”

You tried to shake your head no, and Billy laughed, a humorless, terrifying sound.

“Really? Sure seemed like it to me. He touch you?”

You made a small, squeaky sound and shook your head again.

“Good. Glad you at least know better than that. ‘Cause this?” He shoved his other hand beneath your skirt, cupping you through your panties and grinding the heel of his hand into your clit hard enough to make you yelp. “This is mine. Do you understand me? Fucking mine.”

He lifted his palm from your mouth, giving you silent permission to speak again, and, hoping to appease him, you tilted your head down and gazed up at him reproachfully through your lashes. “Yes, Sir,” you said softly, watching satisfaction flicker briefly in his eyes.

“Oh, now I’m Sir? A few minutes ago it seemed like you barely even remembered I existed, but suddenly I’m Sir again, huh?”

“I-I’m sorry, I…it won’t happen again, I promise.”

“No, it won’t. Because I’m gonna spend the rest of the night making sure it doesn’t. Now get in the fucking car.”

You didn’t even get two steps onto his front porch before Billy stopped you, tossed his Newports pack and lighter onto a rounded table, slumped into a wicker chair in front of you, and ordered you to kneel.

“You wanna act like a slut, then you’re gonna be treated like one,” he said, but when you instinctively went for the buckle of his belt, he swatted your hands away and forced you back on your haunches.

“You think you get my cock after how you acted tonight? That’s like rewarding a puppy for pissing on the carpet. And you, Y/N, were a bad puppy, so you won’t be getting a treat. Not for a long fucking time, and that’s if you’re lucky.”

The rough wood dug into your bare knees as you knelt, and Billy took his sweet time lighting up a cigarette and taking a few indulgent puffs before kicking out one leg as an offering. When you stared at him blankly, unsure of what he was implying – or perhaps hoping he wasn’t really saying what you thought he was saying – he rolled his eyes.

“Don’t act dumb. Hop on, slut.”

Now here you are – hurtling headlong toward an orgasm just from humping against your boyfriend’s boot. It’s humiliating. It’s the most degrading thing he’s ever had you do, and here you are, whining into his thigh and digging your nails into his jeans, huffing and so close, so fucking close, you’re gonna –

Thud.

Your ass hits the porch, a breeze whispering between your thighs before you’re fully aware of what just happened. Billy chuckles, tapping ash off his cigarette, brow heavy in shadow. His pupils have almost swallowed his irises whole, and his blackened gaze is like fire as it rakes hungrily up and down your body. “Don’t look so shocked. You think I can’t tell when you’re about to cum? Especially when you pant like that?” he asks. He shifts slightly on the chair, and the wet spot on his boot glistens as it catches the porch light.

You squeeze your thighs together, and your entire body flushes once you realize you have soaked your panties all the way through and your skin is sticky with arousal. “I…I wasn’t,” you lie, knowing full well if he’d given you ten more seconds, you would’ve exploded and probably woken up half the neighborhood.

“Sure. You lost that privilege the second you started talking to the douchebag at the party, slut. Back to work.”

“How much longer?” you grouse, purposefully slowing your movements so you don’t give away how pathetically eager you are to resume your task. Your thighs tremble and twitch beneath you as you situate your drooling cunt back on Billy’s boot, and you suck the gasp that threatens to spill out back in once the pressure and friction you need are restored. He doesn’t even have to tell you to keep going, not this time – your hips move of their own accord.

“Until I decide you’re done,” Billy answers. “Don’t be such a baby, like you’re not loving this.”

“I’m not,” you mumble, though the assertion rings hollow when Billy hitches his foot up slightly against your clit, and you moan. Motherfucker.

“You think that guy would be very impressed if he saw you right now?” he muses, taking a drag off his cigarette before setting it down on the edge of the ashtray. Smoke unfurls from the corners of his mouth as he grins down at you, making him look absolutely sinister. “Cause I don’t. I think he’d realize what a pathetic little whore you are and he’d laugh.”

The humiliation is almost enough to bring tears to your eyes. You duck your head again, teeth grinding behind trembling lips, but Billy snatches you by the cheeks again and makes you look at him. You brace for another cloud of smoke aimed at your face, but nothing comes – he just stares at you, long blond lashes twitching on lowered lids. His hand slides around to the left side of your face, cupping your cheek in his palm almost tenderly. As pissed off as you are, you can’t help but lean into his touch.

“Who do you belong to?” he asks, low enough that his voice is nearly drowned out by the hum of katydids around his porch.

“You.”

Crack!

Billy slaps you so hard across the face that if he weren’t cradling your head, it would’ve whipped to the side. You realize that’s why he’s holding you like this, so he can smack you silly without actually risking injury to your jaw or neck. The tears do fall this time, one or two slipping silently out of the corners of your eyes, and your cheek burns red hot from the force of the slap.

“What was that?” Billy asks, and you quickly realize your mistake.

“You, Sir,” you amend. The edge of his mouth quirks into a lazy grin, and he brushes a thumb over your stinging flesh.

“That’s right. Even when you’re being a fucking brat, you’re still mine. You understand?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Am I ever gonna catch you acting the way you did tonight again?”

You sniffle, shaking your head vehemently. “No, Sir, never. I promise. I’m sorry, Sir.”

Crack!

You cry out, and your pussy throbs as Billy brushes a lock of hair out of your face and laughs. “I didn’t hear you. You’re what?”

“I-I’m sorry, Sir,” you repeat pitifully. Fresh tears sluice down your face, dragging your eye makeup with them; your right cheek tingles fiercely, and the pain blends with the pleasure radiating from your cunt so sweetly that you almost beg Billy to hit you again. You don’t have to, though – you catch a glimpse of his hand out of your peripheral vision, swinging through the air so fast that it becomes a pale blur against the night, and pain sparks across your skin anew. The presence of your tears heightens the impact of his palm, and you can’t help but openly sob after the blow, eyes squeezing shut.

There’s a release in the pain, an odd kind of catharsis you’d only discovered once you and Billy had started dating. He was always rougher with you than your past boyfriends, but he never truly manhandled you until you’d begged him for it – quite literally begged, on your knees, with tears sparkling prettily in your eyes and your bottom lip pushed out in a pout. Billy teased out the masochist in you, little by little, until you drooled for the pain he inflicted just as much as the mind-numbing pleasure.

Your safeword is always there, an everpresent and ever-accepted option in case it all got to be too much, but you’ve come to enjoy the thrill of Billy toeing the line of your boundaries; he’s never stepped past it, and the way he rubs a tear away with the pad of his thumb before pressing a chaste kiss to the top of your head assures you that he won’t now.

“You gonna be good for me from now on?” he asks, lips moving against your hair.

“Yes, Sir,” you whimper.

The sound of Billy’s zipper coming undone makes your eyes snap wide open. You watch with reverence as he reaches into his jeans, leaning back and fishing his already hard cock out of his boxers. A moan rolls out of your mouth involuntarily as he wraps his fist around the thick, veiny shaft, stroking himself once before settling his grip at the base. He’s flushed dark red with arousal, and there’s pre-cum beading at the tip, and without thinking, without asking permission, you surge forward to lick it off.

“Ah-ah-ah,” Billy chides like he’s scolding a dog, forcing you into stillness by wrapping your hair around his free hand. He laughs, the sound breathy thanks to the steady pace he’s begun to jerk himself off at, and shakes his head.

“So greedy. Get off my fucking leg.”

You obey, a task which proves difficult to undertake with Billy’s fingers still curled against the nape of your neck, and before you can even think to question his command, your face is rushing down toward the porch. You cry out, convinced for a moment that you’re about to receive a mouthful of splinters, but Billy merely holds you down, back curved painfully and your legs tucked beneath your torso, nose inches from the ground. Then, his boot's brown, glistening toe is beneath your mouth.

“Clean it off,” he says. His voice is gravelly and tremulous, the way it always is when he’s being pleasured, and normally, you’d be the one giving him all that pleasure – but all you’re being offered is to lick your own slick off of his shoe. You want to scream with indignation, you want to rip your head from his hand and plant yourself on his cock, you want to selfishly rub your clit until you cum, you want so much you could cry right now. Humiliation roils in your stomach and scorches your nerves, inspiring tears to well in your eyes again.

“Did I fucking stutter?” Billy snarls. “You wanna lick the soles clean instead?”

Your nose scrunches in revulsion. “No, Sir.”

“Then do as I tell you, slut.”

Your safeword bubbles in the back of your throat, and you sniffle; a tear plops fatly on Billy’s boot before rolling off the edge. Just then, you feel his fingers lax the tiniest bit, and he bends toward you.

“Color?” You relax a little and chance a look up at him through wet lashes. He’s still mad; you can tell by how his jaw is set and the furrow in his brow, but his eyes scan yours dutifully, searching for anything you may not be able to verbalize. You swallow thickly.

“Yellow,” you croak. Please slow down. You hardly ever call yellow and have never had to call red before, but you’re so raw from what feels like hours of edging that everything is getting to be too much; the thrill you’ve come to crave has begun to sour. Your entire body is buzzing, but not in an entirely pleasant way – it’s more like the staticky feeling before you get shocked than it is euphoric tingling. So Billy nods almost imperceptibly and guides you back into a sitting position, fingers loosening until he’s gingerly cupping the base of your skull, and his head lolls to the side as he gazes at you. His cheeks have begun to flush, and perspiration glitters on the bit of his collarbone peeking out from beneath his collar, and he’s so fucking beautiful, even (or especially) when he’s being mean to you.

“You alright?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Do we need to stop for the night?”

“No, Sir.” Your cunt aches at the thought.

Billy eyes you for a moment, fist still lazily working his shaft, and when he comes to a conclusion, he sights contentedly.

“You wanna be a good girl and cum on my boot, Y/N?”

Your heart leaps at the thought, and the irony is not lost on you. If he had asked you the same question earlier today, you’d have turned your nose up at him and scoffed. Now, it’s like he’s giving you the greatest gift you could ask for.

“Really?”

He nods. “You still don’t get my cock. I’m not budging on that. But I s’pose you’ve proven how sorry you are tonight. So maybe you deserve a little treat.”

His leg has barely brushed the inside of your thigh before you’re straddling it again, grinding with renewed fervor now that you know he’s going to show you mercy. He chuckles at your eagerness before stretching his arm back and pillowing his head with his free hand.

“That’s it,” he murmurs, “make yourself cum for me. You like when I reward you, huh, baby?”

“Yes, Sir,” you moan, your voice already high and strained in your throat.

“You look so fuckin’ wrecked right now. Makeup’s all fucked, and you got that desperate look on your face, fuck. You like when I ruin you, huh?”

“Y-Yes, Sir.” He knows how quickly you crumble when he talks dirty, and he always rambles when he’s close, so you dig your nails into his calf and rock your hips more insistently. Tension coils between your hips, tighter, tighter, impossibly tight until you’re right on the edge again, lashes fluttering as your eyes roll back and incapable of making a sound beyond pitiful little gasps between clenched teeth.

“That’s right, good girl, fucking cum for me –”

Just as the first throb of your orgasm reverberates through your core, Billy pushes your head forward and hooks his thumb into your mouth, forcing it open as thick, hot ropes of cum splatter against your face. You moan loudly and stick your tongue out further, trying to catch his release and only minimally succeeding. You shiver on his leg, cunt spasming and gushing slick into your panties, and Billy just laughs as he deliberately cums all over your face.

“Aww, there we go,” he purrs once he’s milked the last of his load from his softening cock. He shakes that hand out and flexes the fingers, while he uses the other to collect the cum dripping off your cheeks and smear it over your waiting tongue. “You look so much prettier with my cum all over your fuckin’ face.”

“Thank you, Sir.” No sooner have the words left your mouth does Billy stuff three fingers into it, the tips dangerously close to activating your gag reflex. You swallow around the digits and remind yourself to breathe through it, just as you’ve done probably hundreds of times when you take his cock in your throat, and Billy’s smirk makes your cheeks glow with pride. He thrusts his fingers in and out a few times, eyes following the stringy lines of drool that dribble from your bottom lip.

When he releases his grip on your jaw, he wipes his hand on his jeans and juts his chin at you. “Swallow.”

You do, making a big show of tilting your head back slightly and gulping down all the drool and cum that’s puddled in your mouth so your throat visibly bobs with the effort, and Billy chuckles in approval. He sits a little straighter, scanning the pitch black pressing against the dim light of the porch while he tucks himself back into his jeans. You shuffle awkwardly off his leg when he prompts you, and your body is still buzzing from your orgasm so you almost don’t notice that your legs are numb and burning beneath you.

Almost.

“C’mon, up,” Billy says as he stands, a few notches in his spine cracking as he raises his arms above his head and bends backward in a stretch. He extends a hand down toward you, and you take it dazedly. He has to stoop and drape an arm around your shoulders to help you to your feet, and when you stumble against him on bloodless, trembling legs he laughs; you’re rewarded with a chaste kiss to the forehead for your effort.

“You might need to give me a second,” you warn, “I don’t think I can make it to your car like this.” Billy cocks an eyebrow at you.

“Who said anything about going to the car?” He takes a step back and reaches for the front door, deftly turning the knob and flinging it open. You stare into the black, yawning mouth of his home, cheeks heating slightly.

“I just thought–”

“We aren’t done, baby,” Billy croons, and that wicked, cat-like grin curls onto his face once again. Your stomach leaps, and your mouth drops open to ask what exactly he’s getting at, but before you can get the words out he’s cupping you between your thighs again.

“I haven’t punished this sweet little cunt yet.”

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#billy hargrove fanfic #billy hargrove #billy hargrove smut #stranger things #stranger things smut #stranger things fic #ao3 author #billy hargove x reader #billy hargrove x you #billy hargrove x y/n #f!reader #my writing #stranger kinks

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seravphs · 1 year

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ੈ♡˳·˖✶ — MIYA ATSUMU x FEM READER

When you started dating Atsumu, you swore to never be the annoying gym couple, and yet here you are.

wc — 700

tags — fluff, most unserious relationship ever

The soft grunts from the other side of the gym were really getting to you. Don’t look, don’t look, don’t look, you repeat to yourself - until another bitten off curse draws your attention to the man determined to be the death of you.

Across the row of barbells, Miya Atsumu brings the hem of his shirt to his face to swipe off the drop of sweat clinging to his chin. In the mirror behind him, the muscles of his back ripple with each movement, causing your throat dry up.

As soon as you register what you’re doing, your brain stutters and you immediately whip around, trying to ignore the low chuckle behind you.

Oh, he knew exactly what he was doing and he was enjoying it, eating up every second of attention you were giving him.

Gritting your teeth, you focus on another set of push ups, keeping your core tight. It’s working, for a bit, your mind clearing as all your energy goes to keeping you in the proper form. All of that effort goes to shit when he walks past you.

Legs.

That’s the first, and for several minutes, only thought in your head.

Thighs.

You want him to crush you between them.

His muscles could have been sculpted by the gods, and the effect it has on you - well. You had to check if you were still breathing. He laughs again, and you try to discreetly draw the back of your hand against your face in case you were drooling.

In front of you, Atsumu, the bastard, purposefully lowers himself to the floor in an effortless split.

Oh, god.

He was flexible. You tear your eyes away from his broad chest, ignoring his Cheshire cat smirk. He got you again, but you were determined not to let it happen a third time.

This was a competition, and you were going to win. Two could play at that game.

Running sucks. It gets you sweaty and hot and tired faster than any other exercise, and you swear the treadmill has it out for you. It never works quite right when you’re on it, but damn if you don’t look good with your hair bouncing. You’re well aware of how amazing you look in the glow of runner’s high.

Someone else is, too. Behind you, Atsumu trips over his own feet and crashes into the rack of barbells, earning him the ire of multiple frat boys. Even as he’s being scolded, he looks love struck and dazed, eyes only for you.

It’s incredibly gratifying. You waste the entire session flirting with Atsumu while he continues to be horrifying, distractingly hot in your general direction.

The audacity of him.

Of course, someone has to ruin it. Atsumu isn’t the only one noticing how good you look running.

As you’re checking the miles, a hand shoots out to hit the off button. At first, you turn with a smile, expecting it to be a mistake, but it slides off your face instantly at the condescending next words. You slow to a stop with the treadmill.

“Hey, sweetheart. Need a few tips?”

“No, thank you.”

“Come on, babe-“

“Not your babe.”

“Don’t be like that. Why don’t you give me your number?”

“She said no, dude.” Atsumu comes up behind you, heat radiating off him. He’s not close enough to touch, and yet, his solid presence is more than enough to make you feel more secure.

“I didn’t ask you,” the random gym rat snaps.

Atsumu rolls his eyes. “She wouldn’t be interested in ya anyway. Word of advice, buddy? Ya should just give up now.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because-“ He yells in surprise as you, sick of this conversation, pull him down for a kiss. Initially shocked, he melts into you as he always does, bringing his hands up to your face to cradle your cheeks tenderly. For a minute after you break away, you just lean your foreheads together, staring into his eyes.

Then you wrinkle your nose. “Ugh, you’re sweaty.”

“Babe!”

You turn back to the man with a grin. “I’m not interested because he’s my boyfriend.”

Atsumu smirks behind you, arms crossed.

#sera writes #miya atsumu x reader #atsumu x reader #miya atsumu fluff #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu fluff #hq x reader #hq x fluff

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veganmikehanlon · 7 months

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Steve pulls up to the Wheeler’s house and waits for Robin to come out. It’s a little weird that his best friend and ex-girlfriend hang out so much that he regularly picks Robin up from Nancy’s house. Having saved the world together really puts things in perspective though. Besides, it’s good that they have each other. Nancy never really had anyone after Barb, and Robin is a great friend.

Right on time she comes tripping out of the front door and rushes to the passenger side of his car.

“Good morning,” He greets her when she’s inside.

“I told Nancy I like girls,” Robin tells him excitedly.

“Holy shit!”

“I know!”

Steve smiles at Robin as she vibrates excitedly in his passenger seat.

“I’m guessing she took it well?” Steve asks as he backs out of the driveway.

“She was so cool about it,” Robin sighs happily.

“That’s great, Rob,” Steve says, smiling gently at his friend. Robin has been wanting to tell Nancy for a while, not because she felt like she was keeping a secret from her or anything, she just wanted Nancy to know her better.

Robin recounts the entire interaction to him on the drive to work and Steve listens as she gushes about how cool Nancy is and how glad she is that they can stay friends. Steve is relieved too, it would’ve been really shitty and awkward if Nancy hadn’t taken it well.

They arrive at work, quickly clock in, and put on their work vests. It’s always a good day when Steve and Robin get to work together, the days when they don’t always drag by.

Robin recounts the entirety of her sleepover with Nancy which she always does like every time they hang out like it’s a grand adventure that Steve needs to hear about. Even though all they did was watch a movie and paint each other’s nails which sounds like standard girl sleepover things to Steve. But he listens intently, laughs at Robin’s funny anecdotes, and watches the clock as time passes.

It’s almost his lunch break when the door jingles and Vickie walks in. Robin shoots him wide panicked eyes and he gives her an unimpressed look.

“Aren’t you guys friends now?” He murmurs pointedly.

“Yeah, so?” Robin asks defensively. Steve rolls his eyes.

“So go talk to her,” He urges. Robin whines lowly then nods and squares her shoulders. “And be yourself,” He reminds her as she walks away from him. She flips him off for it but it’s solid advice. He leans his elbows on the counter and watches surreptitiously as Robin and Vickie migrate to the start of the Action section, both of them speaking a mile a minute.

Steve keeps one eye on the clock and one eye on the front door as it approaches his break time. He didn’t have any food in his house to bring so he’ll be having a cigarette for lunch, but still, he’s looking forward to getting off the floor. It’s a nice surprise when Nancy comes in. She looks effortlessly beautiful as always and Steve feels proud that at one point he had the most perfect girl in Hawkins. She asks about Robin and he points her in her direction and then Nancy gets weird.

“Who’s that?” She asks sharply. Steve looks over at Robin and Vickie who is talking excitedly with her hands and Robin’s face is getting progressively redder. Steve knows that anybody in the know could see that they’re flirting, Eddie told him so even though he won’t tell Steve how he’s in the know since Robin hasn’t told him.

“Oh, that’s Vickie, Robin is obsessed with her,” Steve says, a smile blooming on his face because holy shit he gets to talk about this now.

“I can see that,” Nancy murmurs. Steve watches as Robin throws her head back in laughter at something Vickie says and his smile grows.

“Yeah, it’s all very cute,” Steve says with a happy laugh that immediately dries up when he turns and sees the look on Nancy’s face. She’s got that look where something is bothering her but she’s trying to pretend it isn’t.

“Right, yeah, cute. Listen, I better get out of here, tell Robin I say hi, well actually never mind, it doesn’t matter, anyway, I’ll see you later.” She rushes out of the store and Steve wonders if Nancy is as cool as Robin said she is.

Finally, it’s time for his break and he takes his pack of cigarettes with the lighter stuffed in the pack out of the backdoor. He’d finally caved and bought his own after having to continuously buy Eddie a new pack after they smoked all of his together. It doesn’t stop him from being hungry but it does curb his appetite enough that he knows he’ll be able to finish his shift without food.

When he goes back in, Vickie is gone and Robin is waiting impatiently at the counter for him.

“Vickie invited me to a party tonight and told me to bring whoever I wanted!” Robin tells him as soon as he’s near. He shakes his head.

“I can’t tonight, I have plans with Eddie, and you know he’ll never agree to go to a party,” He tells her. Eddie’s name was cleared thanks to the creepy branch of the government that deals with covering up how they repeatedly save Hawkins, but the town still hates him and blames him for the murders. It makes going out in public difficult, to say the least.

“Ugh, you always have plans with Eddie, shit, I hope Nancy is free,” Robin complains. Steve cringes.

“Shit, Robin I have to tell you something.” Steve scratches the back of his head. “Nancy came in here to return a tape–”

“Aw fuck, I forgot to grab the tape!” Robin interrupts.

“Yeah well, she came in here when you were talking to Vickie, and Eddie said that anyone in the know could tell you like her–”

“So he does know!” Robin exclaims, pulling Steve closer by his shoulders. Steve shrugs under her hands.

“But neither of us told,” Steve points out.

“God, he’s totally clocked me,” Robin groans, putting her head in her hands. Steve looks down at the top of her head and purses his lips. Fuck, now there are two crises.

“So Rob, about Nancy,” Steve starts hesitantly, tugging lightly on a piece of her hair. She lowers her hands and her eyes flit nervously around his face.

“Shit, yeah?” She asks nervously and he takes a big breath.

“Nancy came in and saw you flirting with Vickie and I was like oh cool I can talk about this now so I kind of confirmed you like her and she got her “I’m pretending everything is fine” look on her face a look I am very familiar with because she used it all the time when we were together.”

Robin pulls her “Do you know what you just said was sad” look, something she uses often when Steve says things like that about his and Nancy’s relationship.

She told Steve one time that their relationship made her sad for both of them. That they both obviously needed the support of someone that had been there but in the end, they needed different things. She needed someone to remember with, and he needed someone to let it go with. He told her that he likes what they have together. That they can acknowledge it by reading each other's eyes when something reminds them of it or even better when it would land well in a joke because objectively “That time I was tortured by Commies” is a funny thing to say. But they don’t have to speak it out loud, they can just know between them and it never has to get bigger than the space between their eyes.

“Wait, wait, wait, what do you mean you “kind of” confirmed I like her?” Robin asks suddenly. Steve cuts his eyes away from her face.

“I may have told her you’re obsessed with her,” Steve confirms in a guilty murmur.

“Steve!” Robin shouts and Steve looks quickly around the store like they’re going to get caught. She wacks his arm and he pulls away, always the hand with the rings, geez.

“Do you think she’s mad I didn’t tell her I had a crush last night?” Steve considers this. Nancy does like to have the whole story and was definitely surprised by Vickie’s existence.

“That could be it, yeah,” Steve agrees. Robin chews her bottom lip anxiously.

“I almost hope that’s it, you know?” She inquires softly, her eyes hooded and sad. Steve grabs her hand and squeezes it in comfort.

“I know,” He says, knowing how scared Robin was to tell anyone while not coming down from fucking truth serum and that it’s a possibility Nancy is now reacting badly to Robin’s sexuality.

Steve sees someone reach for the front door handle behind Robin’s shoulder and drops her hand to step towards the front counter. Robin whirls around when the bell rings.

“Welcome to Family Video,” They parrot, smiles firmly in place.

“Can I help you find anything today?” Steve asks since it’s his turn. The customer declines and Steve rests a hip gratefully against the counter, turning towards Robin at his side.

“What about the party?” She asks sadly, copying his pose.

“You can always still call her and ask her to go with you, you know she won’t go if she doesn’t want to.” Robin nods. They both very well know Nancy Wheeler will get her way out of doing something she doesn’t want to do just as easily as she gets away with doing whatever she wants. “And then if she turns down the invitation we can get together, get wine drunk, and brainstorm about why she wouldn’t want to go for real. How does that sound?” Steve asks.

Robin smiles at him, “Sounds good, boss,” She confirms. She dissolves the sugary atmosphere quickly.

“Can you drive us?”

“Seriously?”

“Please?” Robin asks with a pout and wide eyes. Steve rolls his eyes.

“Fuckin’, fine but I’m not trying to be out all night.”

“Okay, Dad,” Robin snickers.

“Ouch,” Steve winces, placing a hand over his heart.

“You’ll live,” Robin deadpans and Steve gasps.

“This is how you treat your ride to the love of your life’s party?”

“Oh I’m so sorry, however will I repair your fragile male ego?”

“I’ll take a compliment.”

“Oh Steve,” Robin sighs romantically, “Your hair is looking extra shiny under the fluorescents today.” Steve runs a hand through his hair.

“I appreciate your totally genuine compliment.”

Steve picks out a couple of movies for him and Eddie to watch once his shift finally ends. One that Robin recommended to him because the lead actress is hot and one the kids had just returned and said they really liked. He drives Robin home and after finally agreeing that Robin does not need to know what Steve thinks she looks hot in and to help her pick out an outfit for the party, he makes his way home. He’s got a few hours to kill with nothing to do, and Eddie always invites him over super late anyway after his Uncle has left for his night shift. So he does the only thing he can think to do to kill time and he gets into bed for a nap.

He wakes up a couple of hours later with a dry throat and an empty stomach. He weighs just smoking another cigarette against actually making food for himself but the physical pangs of hunger make the decision for him. He rolls out of bed and picks out a pair of sweatpants and an old Hawkins High t-shirt. Once dressed he makes his way down to the kitchen and opens the fridge only to remember that there’s no food in the house and that’s why he didn’t eat lunch today in the first place. With a groan, he closes the fridge and goes to the drawer with the takeout menus. After placing his pizza order he checks the phone messages and sees Robin left him one.

Hey Steve, your robot voice box is still fucking creepy, anyway, Nance is coming tonight I told her we’d be there around 10.

He goes and sits on the front porch to smoke a cigarette and wait for his food to arrive. He wonders what Dustin is doing tonight, they didn’t talk at all today which is weird for them. Although he and Eddie have both been talking about a campaign recently so maybe they’ve been hanging out. Steve ignores the small pang of jealousy that shoots through him at the thought. They’re all friends now and Dustin has assured him that they both play different but important roles in his life. It was pretty condescending when he said it, but it helps Steve to remind himself to not be jealous.

He remembers how Nancy was when she came into his work. That “I’m pretending everything is fine” look etched onto her face. Maybe he shouldn’t have mentioned Robin’s crush on Vickie. He really thinks Nancy is better than being homophobic but he’s only recently started to get to know her again. And to be honest, he wasn’t that interested in her intellectual capabilities when they were together. Sure, it was hot that she was smart, but it didn’t really play that much of a role in Steve’s attraction to her.

Finally, the delivery driver pulls into his driveway and Steve rises from the porch. He pays the guy and takes his pizza into the house. He eats half of the pizza in front of the tv before putting the rest away in the fridge. He’s going to have to go grocery shopping tomorrow. It’s actually one of his favorite things about his parents being out of town is being able to stock the house with food he actually wants. His mom is obsessed with being healthy and buying all the right foods for whatever diet she’s on.

There are actually a lot of things he likes about his parents being out of town. Mainly that they’re not around to be constantly criticizing him. It’s always something from his appearance to who he ’s hanging out with and how he’s spending his time. They have something to say about all of it.

They would flip out if they knew how much time he’d been spending with Eddie “The Freak” Munson. Or even with Robin, his mom would call her “not the right type of girl” whatever that means. Well, Steve knows what it means, because he used to think that way too. He has a lot more fun now that he doesn’t subscribe to that high school hierarchy bullshit. It’s kind of hard to when all his friends are fucking nerds.

Sometimes, though, it’s hard to not isolate himself inside the big house. He gets used to the quiet and the stillness. How there are no loud noises to jump at or flailing body limbs to flinch from. It’s just him in a sea of quiet where outside problems almost fade away. Some days, when the headache won’t go away or the nightmares are too much, or when everyone else’s needs clamber into the small space he holds in himself for his own needs, it’s hard to not want to sink into the quiet and stay there.

That’s why he’s been spending so much time with Eddie. He never needs anything from Steve. Not his opinion, approval, or anything Steve doesn’t offer up. Which was hard for Steve at first who was always offering up his time, space, and money. But Eddie never asks him to. Steve actually had to start leaving money in Eddie’s very badly hidden secret money stash for all the drugs they do together.

That’s another thing Steve likes about Eddie. He makes him feel young and like it’s okay to be young. He doesn’t have to be the adult or responsible or put together. He can get fucked up, be carefree, and go wherever his mind takes him. It helps that Eddie is like, really fucking weird. Steve can never top the weird shit that comes out of Eddie’s mouth. He never worries about being cool around Eddie because Eddie isn’t cool.

Finally, it’s time to go pick Robin up for the party. Steve thinks about changing into something more appropriate for leaving the house but decides against it since he’s just going to get high and watch a movie with Eddie. That’s another thing that’s changed over the years. He never used to leave the house without looking like a respectful member of society. He still puts on his shoes with the green swish that matches the green lettering on his shirt, he has standards.

CH 2

#realizations are a funny thing #mowrites #steddie #steve harrington/eddie munson #slow burn #platonic soulmates stobin #stobin friendship #nancy wheeler #st fic

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syzzish · 3 years

Text

PLAN B !

brother’s best friend!eren gives you an alternative plan for your evening.

— NSFW SMUT ! virgin fem! reader pretty vanilla for the most part ; pet names (pretty girl, princess, baby, pretty) groping, fingering, head—fem! & male! receiving, praise, missionary, unprotected sex, creampie.

not proofread, expect gramatical and spelling mistakes. lowercase intended!

now playing: don’t - bryson tiller

— eren has always been kind of protective over you. he grew up with you, and quickly figured out you were that you were too sweet for this world. it was natural that your beloved older brother’s best friend was who you had a crush on, too.

it was innocent at first; few blushes here, a subtle compliment there, all around mindless flirting. he thought it was so cute the way you’d hide your face if he ever complimented you. and then slowly, as you got older, it escalated to not-so-innocent flirting. he’d purposely stare at your chest while you spoke, saying “i’m sorry, what were you saying? i got distracted” when you’d wave your arm in his face to get his attention again, or snarky ass comments like “what’re you gonna do about it, pretty?” after you got mad at him.

eren just knew you so well, it was in his nature at this point. he knew just about everything about you, probably more than you knew about yourself. it was his job to be annoying, but to also be the person you’d go to if you needed help.

though, when he said “if you need any help, text me”, this isn’t what he meant.

Y/N: eren, i need help.

EREN: what’s up, pretty?

Y/N: can you come over? i need to show you

EREN: yeah, gimme like 10 minutes

Y/N: okie thank you <3

EREN: anytime

so when he got there and you pointed him to the direction of your room, and he saw two pairs of lingerie on your bed, and oh man, when you said “which one should i wear? i’m going to meet someone”, something in him went off.

“you know, when i said you could text me if you needed anything, i meant like if it was a live or die situation, right?”

you pouted. “i know what you meant, but technically this falls under the category!”

“how so, huh?”

“because i…” you mumbled through the rest of your sentence.

“speak up, shorty.” eren looked at you, green eyes piercing your skin. you sighed.

“because…i’m a virgin. and tonight is the first time i get to experience something new. i just…want it to be special.”

“so you’re asking me what lingerie to wear?” he looked so confused, yet somehow managed to make you feel like your reasoning wasn’t solid.

“i mean, you’re a guy, i figured you’d have an opinion on what looks good and what doesn’t.”

“okay first of all, you don’t need to do anything special to impress a guy. chances are he just wants to hit and leave, so taking off lingerie is gonna be too much of a hassle. second, you’re a virgin?”

“well yeah.”

“i could’ve helped you with that part.” eren let his mouth go before his brain could process what he said.

“w-what?”

“i mean, do you know this guy?”

“yeah…”

“don’t lie to me.”

“damn okay i don’t. i just want to get it over with! all of my friends already lost their virginities and i’m literally the only person who hasn’t!”

“so you want to give it to a random guy?”

“well when you say it like that it makes it sound dumb.”

“because it is y/n. look, either you go to this guy and fuck someone you don’t know, or go with plan B.”

“what’s plan B?”

“let me fuck you instead.”

you froze. was he being serious? you can’t fuck your brother’s best friend, let alone lose your virginity to him!

“and why would i do that?”

“because i actually know you, and how to please a girl. there’s no guarantee that guy knows what he’s doing, but i do.”

eren stepped closer to you, grabbing your chin and running his slender thumb down your lip.

“whatdya say pretty girl, wanna let me fuck you?”

you looked up at eren with bright eyes, he swore up and down that was the cutest thing you could ever do.

“i-i mean, yes, but i don’t know what i’m doing.”

“that’s why i’m here. i’ll make you feel good, trust.”

you nodded as eren leaned in to kiss you. you’d kissed people before, sure. but this one, this felt different. maybe it was the way he combed his fingers through your hair, or how his tongue licked your lip for access to yours. or even how his hands somehow travelled to your waist and picked you up from under your thighs. no, it was definitely the way he tasted like mint, and how he would make small mmph’s and exhale audibly every time he needed air. it was all so much to take in.

your fingers started wandering as well, making their way to his hair, allowing eren to let out the most arousing noise you’ve ever heard. if you weren’t already soaked, you definitely are now.

you felt eren start to move towards your bed, supporting your weight on his hips with one hand while he threw the lingerie aside with the other. he then placed you on the soft surface, looming over you, his body in between your legs, as your lips continued to mindlessly move together. you felt his silver chain against your hot skin, his hands trailing up and down your waist, his tongue fighting you for dominance, the way his hips lightly grind into yours. you loved everything about it.

“‘m wanna go down on you. can i, pretty girl?” eren spoke in between kisses. his voice was quiet and deep, contrasting perfectly with your high pitched squeals and whimpers. his slender fingers made their way to the hem of your shorts, ghosting over your skin on his way there.

“yes, fuck, please” was all you managed to get out. your mind felt hazy, maybe it was the lack of oxygen, maybe it was the way his breath fanned over your core. we’ll never know for sure.

“have you been..?” he questioned, looking up from his position between your thighs.

“n-no.” you turned your head to the side, feeling eren’s gaze on you.

“okay. i’ll start slow, alright? make you feel good.”

and that he did. eren kissed on your thighs, purposely teasing you. as you squirmed underneath his touch, the thought of his tongue on your core drove you insane with anticipation. finally, he tugged on your shorts, signaling you to pull them down, and stepped back when you were left with your panties on.

“have i ever told you how fucking pretty you are?”

“maybe a few times, but i thought you were joking.”

“is it obvious now that ‘m not joking, y/n?” eren looked at you with desire. he wanted to know what you’d say next. he meant what he said, you’re stunning to him. you’ve always been.

“i guess it’s pretty obvious now.”

“good, cause you’re really fucking pretty. c’mere.”

eren pulled you by your hips closer to him on the edge of the bed. he bent down and pulled your panties off of you. you heard him groan slightly, his breath fanning on your pussy.

“so beautiful, y/n.” he mumbled, right before-

“h-holy shit!”

you swore you had the wind knocked out of you. his tongue felt amazing. the way he’d lick long and then suck on your pretty little bundle on nerves, and when he added a finger, then two?! you saw stars.

“you’re so wet, baby. so sweet.”

you had never felt this much pleasure in your life! it was too much, so when you tried closing your legs, the boy in between them forced them back open, pinning your legs to the bed.

“open.”

all you could do was moan in response, too weak to say anything else.

eren continued lapping at your cunt, finger-fucking you into oblivion. you felt a knot in your stomach form, threatening to break any minute now.

“eren! ‘m gonna..’m so close!” your moans filled your bedroom, the pleasure too good for you to worry about how you sounded.

“you’re gonna what? tell me, use your words, pretty girl.”

“i’m gonna—fuck!—‘m gonna cum!”

“go ahead, cum for me.” eren’s hands made their way up to your shirt, lifting it slightly to gain access to your tits. he squeezed and caressed them, not forgetting to pinch your nipples.

although it was all so friggen good, what sent you over the edge is when he hollowed out his cheeks while sucking on your clit. you let out a loud, drawn-out moan, voice breaking at the end. your back arched off the bed as eren continued to lap up your juices, stopping shortly after the overstimulation started to kick in.

“you did so good, baby.” eren cooed, pushing the hair out of your face. he pulled off your shirt and kissed the valley between your breasts, his hands groping your pretty tits.

“do you still wanna go all the way?” eren asked, detaching himself from you. he was already happy he made you felt good, but part of him hoped and prayed that you’d say yes because the raging cock in his pants was begging for attention.

“yes, you have to feel good too, ‘ren.” you said hazily. your eyes were barely open, the post-orgasmic sleepiness kicking in. eren smirked.

“good. do ya think you could suck me off, pretty girl?” eren lowered his sweatpants to where you could see the print in his boxers. your eyes widened as you look at him.

“w-will it even fit?”

“i’ll make it fit, don’t worry.”

you sat up and got on your hands and knees, eren standing in front of you. slowly, you peeled his boxers off, palming his erection as you went. finally, his tan length bounced free, blushed tip angry and leaking with pre.

you took his length into your hand, feeling his shudder against your touch, and as you placed a few kisses on him, you heard him mutter a small “fuck”. you could tell he was getting impatient, so why keep him waiting?

you started slow, only taking an inch or two into your mouth, swirling your tongue along him. you felt eren’s hands make their way to your head, and suddenly his entire cock was shoved down your throat.

“i hope you don’t mind princess—ahh—but i’m gonna fuck your face for a lil’ bit, hmm?” eren said lightly, his moans soft and loud. his hips collided with your face as you opened your throat for more access. at this point, you were gagging pretty harshly, and there were tears streaming down your face. your throat was definitely going to be sore, but holy shit did it feel good knowing he was moaning because of you.

eren’s hips began to stutter, his pace becoming inconsistent. he pulled away from your mouth with a whine.

“i don’t wanna cum yet, but thank you for warming me up, pretty.”

you nod and smile. that was the cutest thing you could’ve done in that moment and boy was eren happy you did it.

“can you lay down for me?”

you obliged, laying down on your back as eren spread your legs once again. he towered over you, lean body and prominent muscles looking delicious in the dim lighting of your bedroom.

eren lined himself up with your entrance, pressing lightly against your pussy.

“eren, is it gonna hurt?”

“maybe a little at first princess, but i’ll be right here. let me know if you want to stop, kay?”

you nod, reaching out for his hand. he took your hand, interlocking your fingers and pressing them against the bed. eren leaned down to kiss your lips, lovingly and sweet.

“you ready?”

“y-yeah.”

was this actually happening? were you about to lose your virginity? to your brother’s best friend? you never imagined he thought of you like this. it made you feel special, that your first time had some meaning to it.

eren pushed slightly into your pussy. you winced a little, the stretch was painful.

“shhh, it’s okay.” eren whispered into your ear, pressing light kisses below your ear and around your neck.

he continued pressing in, the stretch almost too much to bear.

“eren, it hurts!” you yelped, arching your back off the bed.

“i’m almost in, pretty girl. do you want me to stop?”

“..no. can you just…do it faster?”

eren chuckled. “you sure?”

“yes, just get it over with!”

“mkay.”

eren thrusted his hips against yours, finally bottoming out in your cunt. you moaned loudly, trying to adjust to his length as quickly as possible.

“you’re so tight—ahh.”

he waited for you to adjust, your walls hugging him tightly. he kissed your lips once more, whispering “good job, pretty girl” and “i’m so proud of you.” once you were acclimated to the new feeling, your tapped eren’s hand and he started moving slowly.

your moans and embarrassingly loud cunt’s squelches quickly filled the room. you never felt so full in your life! you felt each and every part of his cock brush against your walls, the large tip kissing your cervix easily.

“‘ren—faster please” you managed to say, moaning your way through the request. with a grunt, the boy started moving faster, steadily increasing his pace.

it didn’t take long for the familiar feeling of the knot in your stomach to reappear. eren could tell you were close, too. the way your virgin pussy hugged and pulsated around his cock so nicely, he wasn’t gonna last long.

your moans became increasingly higher, eren adding a few moans here and there to the symphony. he just felt so good. the pain was long gone at this point, pleasure overloading your senses.

“‘m gonna cum!”

“me too, princess.”

eren sped up somehow, his hips at a inhumane pace. his mouth latched on to one of your breasts while a hand reached down to circle your clit.

with a few more thrusts into your pussy, you came, and you came hard. so hard that eren was almost forced out of your soaking wet cunt. he detached from your breast to whine, speeding up even more. the fingers on your clit sped up as well as eren’s head loomed on your chest, his bun falling down to tickle your chin.

he grunted into your chest, mumbling sweet nothing as his hips stuttered and his thrusts became inconsistent.

“cum— where do i cum, pretty?”

“inside—cum inside me.”

“i-inside? fuuuck!”

eren’s cum shot deep in your pussy, warm and in spurts. he continued to fuck his cum into you at a much slower pace. his fingers on your clit moved to a fist on each side of your head as your own made it up to his hair.

“you did so good, baby.” eren mumbled as he kissed you lazily. “let’s get you cleaned up.”

eren pulled out, not without you whining at the loss of his cock, and went to get a warm wash cloth. as he cleaned your body, he couldn’t help but wonder why you agreed to letting him do something so vulgar to you. his best friend’s innocent little sister.

he laid down next to you, pulling your back close to his chest.

“t-thank you eren. i don’t think i would’ve been able to enjoy it the way i did with someone else.”

“‘m just glad you let me.”

should you tell him? that you’ve always liked him? that you wished it was gonna be him to love you for the first time?

“eren.”

“hmm?”

here goes nothing.

“i know that this is probably not the best time, but i really like you. i always have.”

silence swelled the room as you worried he didn’t feel the same. what if you were just another casual hookup? or if he only saw you as your brother’s little sister?

“y/n.”

“yes?”

“i love you. i always have.”

THANK YOU FOR READING MY DARLINGS! sorry about the cheesy ending, i couldn’t resist :’) i’m a sucker for eren omg. anyway, i hope you enjoyed! comments and reblogs are encouraged and appreciated! have a lovely day/night and stay positive my loves! mwah <3

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robynlilyblack · 2 years

Text

Jealous

Hermione Granger x fem! reader

Summary: Y/n is a natural flirt but when a girl gets cosy with her at a party Hermione gets jealous, but when Hermione tries to do the same it backfires

Warnings: swearing, post-hogwarts, established relationship, jealousy, light angst, hurt/comfort, mentions of drinking, sex and nudity (non-sexual), reader is an animagus, Ron is a good friend

A/n: 2.3k words, non voldy au and once again wolfstars adopted daughter because I have no control x thank you so much for the request, enjoy love 💛

Navigation | Golden Era Characters Masterlist

Hermione didn’t hear what her friends were saying, her eyes were focused on you. A few minutes ago, she wouldn’t have batted an eye, but a few minutes ago Cedric and Cho were also there and a few minutes ago that ex puff wasn’t giggling like an idiot and hanging off of your every word

She tried to ignore it, people natrually gravitated toward you. It wasn’t technically possible but you inherited Sirius’ gene for flirtation, pair that with Remus’ soft-spoken side and people were goners…her included.

She knew deep down you were just chatting and had no reason to feel like this but she was growing a little tired. The girl wasn’t exactly turning down dates right and left but she wondered how you would react if you were in her shoes, what if you had to watch some beautifully sculpted being slobbering all over her…or maybe the next best thing

Hermione wasn’t exactly proud of her next decision but that didn’t stop her pulling her ex up to dance, an ex who she was still best friends with but the way she started dancing with him wasn’t very friendly

“Mione” Ron gently stops her from grinding into him “What are you doing?” he whispers firmly, looking awfully confused

“Making y/n jealous” she admits, turning around to face him arms moving around his neck

Ron sways with her hesitantly, face softening but the confusion remains as his eyes flick from you, who’s happily talking with some girl, to her. The boy had no idea what his friend was doing, a year ago he would have been killed for this and in truth he would be the first to admit he hated you for a while, but now he was happy for you both, you treated Hermione the way she deserved, far better than he ever did

So what the hell was she doing?

“I thought you two were solid?”

“We are…but” she huffs “She’s always so flirty Ron. I do love that about her, it's one of the reasons I fell for her. It's just…I want to make her a little jealous because she’s always so unbothered. Like last week this guy asked me out and she was completely unfazed” she argues, growing a little annoyed as she remembered you didn’t even look up from your book, no reaction, none!

Ron's eyes widen, trying not to chuckle

“Mione I understand being jealous…believe me” he says and she giggles nodding “But this isn’t the way to fix it” he cups her cheek “Just talk to her, I wish I had cause then maybe I wouldn’t have lost you to someone…” he shakes his head “...someone way better suited and so much better for you” he gives her a smile before he drops his hand back to her waist

She sighs, nodding herself

“I hate when you’re right” she grumbles playfully, igniting more giggles

“It does happen very rarely, must be a blue…moon” his words trail off as he sees you heading up out of the party quickly

“Must be” she giggles but then clocks his expression, looking in the direction he is staring but there’s nothing out of the ordinary “What was it?” she asks turning back

“Y/n left” his eyebrows knit

A pit forms in the girl's stomach uncoupling herself from Ron

“Was she alone?” she hated herself for asking, the moment she said it she wanted to punch the little green gremlin in her stomach

Ron gives her a look she can only describe as hitting that gremlin in the noggin “Course she was” he says firmly “She might just be going for more firewhisky or Neville's stash but you should go check on her just in case she did just leave”

She nods, beginning to walk away but turns back to ask “When did you grow up?”

He chuckles “When I lost you and gained a brain” he jokes light-heartedly, no malice in his voice “Now go get her”

She gives him a smile before making her way through into the hallway, asking some boy if she saw where you went and being told you went through the fireplace

Heading home via the floo network, she was met with a still flat besides a trail of light coming from down the hall. The bedroom. Reaching the door she finds it ajar, light from the room flickering through the small crack. She was about to push it open when she heard it…a sniffle…although it’s more like a whimper?

She slowly leant one ear towards the door checking she heard it right, maybe it was just allergies you didn't know you possessed or a very strange crackle from the fire but it wasn’t and that broke her heart

You rarely cried. Movies? Yes. Bambi hitting pretty hard when she made you and Harry watch it…thinking back that probably wasn’t her smartest moment

No, tonight trumped that, big time

“Y/n?” she calls out

She hears rustling of sheets then a yip of some kind before it’s followed by a distant swear

“I’m getting changed!” you say quickly before nothing

Hermione swears she can hear the cringe, more so she can picture it, the little cringle on your nose, the rare yet cute embarrassment flooding your expression…shame it was bittersweet

“That was a terrible excuse wasn’t it?” you ask, an awkward laugh escaping your lips but she can hear the graininess in your voice from crying

“Little bit yeah” she nods even though you can’t see it “Can I come in?”

Please say yes

“Promise you won’t laugh”

She new that tone, already trying to suppress her laughter

“You know I can’t but I can try” she offers

There's a small silence

“Okay you…you can come in”

Hermione pushes the door open, pressing her lips together as she sees you sitting on your shared bed, the sheets clearly like you were hiding under them with a blanket covering your figure

“Are you nude?” she inquires but she already knows what happened

You nod, not shyly or really embarrassed more just…well she can’t place it, you had never looked this way before, so timid, so unlike yourself

“You startled me and I forgot to shift back with my clothes” you say quietly, fiddling with your fingers “Actually that's a lie I somehow still have one sock” you stick your foot out of the blanket, wiggling it around

She lets out a quiet giggle “What did you lose this time?” she asks, moving to sit next to you but keeping a little distance in case you didn’t want her there

“Just my shirt and underwear…oh and the other sock” you gesture to your jeans and jacket hanging over the chair “Got tired so I was going for a nap ya see”

Half of that was a lie

She could see the glistening of your cheeks, painted by tears, stray hairs sticking to them. Eyes puffy, raw almost bloodshot…and still that look she couldn’t place, a look that terrified her

“You go back to the party, I’ll get a good nap in then I’ll be good as new” you say softly, sadly, that usual charm in your voice gone

“Sweets” your face scrunches at the pet name, face tilting away from her “Please look at me”

You swallow before turning to look, tears brimming your eyes, leg shaking as you plan what to say

“What's wrong?” Hermione wonders, hand moving to cup your now bare knee as you had managed to shrug the blanket off when you showed her your one socked foot and shaking

“Do you still…still want me?” you ask, voice a broken whisper

Her mouth drops open, that expression she couldn’t place was clear now, no wonder she couldn’t read it, you were feeling insecure

“Course I do” she shifts closer, grasping your hands “Why…” she closes her eyes “...sweets it wasn’t like that with Ron, It was just a dance” she tries to explain but you don’t seem to gain any solace from it

“Not from where I was standing” you quip with a foreign lace of bitterness “You said you were over him, that he’s just your…”

“Friend, he is just my friend” she cuts in, panicking over where this was going, panicking you weren’t looking at her anymore “Y/n”

“Why then?” the tears fall down your cheeks, voice cracking

She cups your cheek, bringing your face around so she can see you properly “I wanted to make you jealous” she confesses, shame evident on her face

“Jealous?” you shake your head, eyebrows knitting “Am I not giving you enough attention?”

Suddenly the roles switch, you’re moving to comfort her, thumbs running over her knuckles, face switching from upset and mild anger to sympathy and worry

“You are” she nods “You are” she repeats a little quieter but harder

“You sure? I know I blew off our date last week on the day…”

“Sweets…”

“...so fucking stupid of me to do. George and Fred were setting up their new store and I should have…”

“Sweets”

“...told them to fuck off cause so what if I’m the third own…”

“Y/n!”

“...er…sorry, so sorry” you take a few quick breaths, re-gaining your composure

“It’s not about the date, I honestly forgot about that and if you recall you took me up a hill to watch the sunset later to make up”

“Wait so if it isn’t that or…why?” you look a mix of confused and fearful as you wait for the answer

“Would you believe me if I said it was because I was jealous?” she poses

Now you were perfectly clueless and her heart ached. You had no idea what you had done, completely innocent and she hurt you for no reason…even if she had one nothing merited what she did. You never consciously made her jealous but she did and it was down right cruel now she thought about it

“You were talking to some girl and she was…well you’re so flirty and I was just…I’m sorry” she takes a moment to breathe and you let her, listening sadly “I wanted to get a reaction out of you, make you feel possessive…that's not the right word but just…you don’t ever get jealous, or annoyed when someone makes a move on me and I guess wanted to force it out of you. ”

“You’re wrong”

“What?” she cocks her head

“You’re wrong, I do get jealous. Very jealous” you shrug “You know how many people talk to me like I’m not your girlfriend? They think because I’m a flirt they can subtly tell me how hot and smart you are as if you’re my single friend and not my girl” you say with clear emphasis on the last part

“Why have you never told me that?”

“I was scared you’d think I was like Ron…sorry” you flinch at your words, apologising

She knows what you mean though and even if you think you've overstepped, given the circumstances you were more than in your right to say it

“I’m like my dad. I use flirting as a coping mechanism. Everyone thinks I’m this happy, confident person when in reality I have the same…hell sometimes I think more insecurities as everyone else”

“What kind of insecurities?” she inquires, letting you fiddle with her fingers

“I’m a bit of a tomboy for starters. I never cared much at school, I was fine with a pass but sometimes I hear people talking about how you’re dating an idiot…a hot idiot but an idiot” you let out a little laugh as does she “You have this amazing career and I’m so fucking proud of you" you look her in the eyes as you say it, honing in your pride before looking away "I feel like you could do so much better than me…merlin I could be here all night love I mean we haven’t even got onto physical stuff” you motion to your body and she grabs your hand

“You’re beautiful. Do you have any idea how good you dress, tomboy or not everything you wear is sheer perfection. God, I wish I had your style, why do you think I steal your clothes so much? For one they smell like you and two, they are so cool!” she tells you, cupping your cheek “As for my career, all I care about is that we are happy with what we do. Yeah the ministry can be tiring and I want to kill some folks on occasion but I love it, just like you love the shop. Our happiness trumps everything else. I love coming home and hearing about your day because I never know what to expect. You make my life exciting! If anything I’m the boring one...”

“Are not” you argue “Who made you think that? I’ll make sure a damaged shipment gets directed their way”

She giggles leaning forwards, forehead kissing your own “I’ll give you a list” she says half seriously

Theres a comfortable silence before you pull back, meeting her eyes

“Please tell me next time” you plea “My heart can’t handle that again”

She presses her lips to your forehead, lingering there for almost a mintue

“I will. It’ll never happen again…never ever” she kisses your cheek “Never” your other cheek

She continues whispering ‘never’ between each kiss across your face. This goes on for some time. When she finally looks at you you’re smiling, a little bashfully actually and it makes her heart soar

“You missed one more never here” you tap your lips

She pecks them softly but as she parts your hand comes to the back of her head and holds her lips in place, extending the kiss before she can mumble the word

When you finally break apart you flick your thumb across her cheek “I love you and I’m going to tell you every day until you don’t want me anymore”

Hermione's heart flutters, how could she ever believe you would ever stray elsewhere? You looked at her like she was your everything and she was never making that mistake again...because if she did, she really would lose you

“I promise you the exact same. You better get ready because when we're in our 70’s and you forget, that's it, divorce” she jests and you bark a laugh

“Agreed”

Thank you for reading 💛

#hermione granger x reader #hermione granger and reader #hermione granger x you #hermione x reader #hermione and reader #hermione granger fluff #hermione fic #hermione granger angst #golden era #wolfstar daughter #remus x reader #sirius x reader #robynsrequests

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star-lemonade · 3 years

Text

I shouldn’t have said that

Astro Moonbin x Reader

Cw: smut

Rating: R

Word count: 3.3 k

Summary: Your friend Bin overhears you say you never had good sex in your life and asks if he can help with that.

A/N: While I wrote Country Side Vacation I thought it would be nice to have a series under the theme “reader slips up and says that they haven’t had sex with anyone in a while / no good sex in a while and their friend, who is in love with them, helps out” with different idols. This is unofficial part two XD

“I just want to get fucked really good one time in my life.”

You just felt so frustrated. It was not like you had had lots of exes but still it aways seemed like it was so good for them. Even your friends had stories of mind blowing sex but that just had not happened to you. You let your head sink down to the railing of the balcony. This party sucked too.

“You what?”

Cold ran down your spine like an ice cube. That voice. Oh no. You did not dare to turn around. Unfortunately you did not have to. Bin came up to the railing next to you.

The lights of the city below were a good excuse not to look at your friend. Your face burned. Why had you said that out loud? So stupid. Now Bin must think what a failure you are. You could not even get laid properly.

“Forget you heard that.”

You did not look at Bin and fled.

A few days later you got a message from Bin:

“Hey, wanna grab something to eat?”

You confirmed and met him at one of the usual places. Cheap and big portions was the restaurant’s MO. The room was little battered with its wood floors dented and discoloured, the paint chipping on tables and the walls. But it did not matter as you were here for the food. You found Bin sitting in the corner. Not where you would usually sit.

He wore his usual grey hoodie. Something was different about him today. His hair was messy and he continued to comb it every few minutes. On his neck an angry red patch told you that he had scratched it. Something he did when he was stressed. He was fidgety and distracted. A piece of paper in his hand got folded into half and half again until it was not possible to fold it anymore. When the waitress came with the order he looked at it as if he did not know what food was and stammered an order.

“What is up with you?”

Bin shovelled the food in his mouth. He stared at the bowl in front of him.

“Earth to Bin, are you there?”

He was almost shocked to find you sitting across from him. The spoon frozen halfway to his mouth. You were getting concerned. All of this was not normal Bin behaviour. A gently you added: “Everything alright?”

He set down his spoon and stared at the bowl in front of him. I hope nothing bad has happened.

“I want to ask you something.”

Bin looked around. The table next to yours was empty, but there were people in the restaurant. He slid along the bench. Until he sat next to you. What every this is, it’s for my ears only. Now you were curious.

“Do you want to go to your place?”

“Uhm-?”

Why would he ask that? He had been to your place tons of times. You looked at him. The answer was not written on his face, sadly. His face was neutral, it did not give any hints to the meaning of this. Bin had beautiful eyes and now he was pleading wordlessly for something. The problem was that you had no clue what that was.

“Go to my place?”

He saw that you did not understand and sighed. You knew him long enough to know that whatever it was he wanted to say, he also did not want to say. Bin leaned closer so really no one would hear.

“I will fuck you good. If you want me to.”

You froze. Without realizing you held your breath. Bin had just said that. He moved a little bit away, giving you space.

That was what he meant with ‘going to your place’. This revelation was too much. You could not deal with this. Your -very hot- friend had just offered to fuck with you out of nowhere.

“It’s okay, if you don’t want to.”

He patted your hair like he sometimes did and moved away. His face was flushed. Wait, this was not out of nowhere, it was about that party and that dumb thing you had said. You swallowed and grabbed his arm. Now that he has said it your brain needed to know.

“How would you do that?”

Your question caught him off guard. He looked around scared, but no one was paying attention.

“I would ask you what you want...but if it was up to me..”

He leaned forward so your faces were close. You could see the little scares on his cheek that looked like a smiley.

“First, I would eat you out…”

It was surprising to hear him be so direct. Somehow Bin had always stuck you as a bit more prude.The thought of his head between your legs however was really good. It had been to long since you had had a mouth on your clit.

“Then you would ride me to your heart’s content and at the end I will fuck you as hard and as fast as you want.”

That sounded like the best thing that had never happened to you. You did not know what to say. This was Bin. Your cute friend who really liked to go to the gym.

“I will think about it”

Your tone was very matter of fact. In that moment your instinct was not to flirt with him. The rest of the meal was tense and you said goodbye soon.

At home you did some thinking. Even your unconscious mind was working on this. Your dreams were filled with Bin’s head between your thighs and the hopeful wishing to be filled, stretched and thrusted into. You woke up very wet and uncomfortably turned on.

Maybe this was exactly what you needed. You pulled out your phone and texted Bin.

“Can you come to my place?”

Bin sat down on the edge of the bed and you in his lap. It was the first time you really noticed how big his thighs were. They felt solid under you and supported you as you weighed nothing.

Bin’s hands were on your ass, keeping you from sliding off his lap. You wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed him. Maybe the first kiss should have been more special but you were impatient. Bin responded to the kiss and he pulled you closer. You felt his kiss in your stomach and between your legs. Who knew your shy friend was this good of a kisser.

He pulled back and scanned your face.

“How do you want me?”

His voice was hoarse and the pupils of his brown eyes blown out. You had had your doubts about this but one thing was clear. Bin wanted you, wanted this, just as much, if not more than you.

“Just like you suggested. First your face between my legs..”

Dirty talk was not your strong suit but Bin did not seem to notice. He nodded and you got up from his lap.

“Do you want me to strip for you?”

Your face was hot instantly and in your best pearl clutching voice you said: “Is that what they teach you at the dance academy?”

He smirked. Bin is enjoying this way too much.

“Maybe.”

You felt a bit awkward but also excited. This was not something anyone had ever offered and usually you would have to pay for something like this.

“Yes.”

You may had to watch from between your fingers, because it felt overwhelmingly intense and intimate. He ran his hands over his body and your eyes followed. The sweater he was wearing hid most of his figure but one thing you could see, Bin had broad shoulders. He pulled the sweater up a bit revealing the skin of his stomach. You wanted to touch it but it disappeared again. Bin let the fabric slide back in place. Despite being tall and buff, Bin could dance gracefully.

He turned his back to you and lifted the sweater. As you had suspected, he did not wear anything under it. The fabric slid up his broad back and you could not take your eyes off him.

He sat in your lap but most of his weight was held up by his strong thighs.

“Can I touch you?”

Your hands already hovered over his skin, ready to make contact.

“Yes.”

You let yourself breathe again. Finally you could feel what Bin felt like. You ran your hands over his back and marvelled at the firm muscles. At the hip you traveled to the front to his thighs. The tension from holding his weight made them hard and big. You wanted to rest your head on them and have them between your legs.

Bin stood up and turned around. An outline had appeared in his underwear but it was not fully hard yet.

“How was it so far?”

His voice was soft and his eyes were even softer.

“You look fantastic, Bin.”

He blushed. It was cute.

“Can you lie down for me?”

Your mouth was dry and the words got stuck in your throat. Bin nodded and joined you on the bed. You straddled his hips. The contact of your hips made both of you gasp. His hands flew to your hips. He grabbed you not to control your movement, but because he needed something to hold on to. His fingers had slipped under the hem of your shirt, just ghosting over your skin. The sight was so much worse - better- than before. From his thick arms and big chest to the grooves of his abs, Bin just looked perfect. You rolled your hips into his and soaked in his little whimper. His hands pushed your shirt higher and you leaned forward so he could take it off. The cool air made you shiver but not for long. Bin sat up and wrapped his arms around you. His lips were on your neck and moved further down. Your eyes followed his movements trying to save the picture, burning into your memory how he looked kissing your chest. He locked eyes with you as he pulled down your bra and sucked your nipple into his mouth. A jolt ran through your body and you gasped. Your hand tangled in his hair. It was long, for him at least, and soft, perfect to hold onto. If you had not been so distracted by his teeth lightly biting your nipple, you might have played with it. He pulled back from your abused chest and looked up, expecting for you to say what was next. As much as you wanted for Bin to eat you out, like it had been the original plan, you were soaking wet and wanted to be filled already. You licked your lips.

“Is it okay if I ride you now?”

Your tone was a bit more desperate than you would like to admit. Bin purred a ‘Yes’ and kissed your lips. His strong arms pressed you against his bare chest. He was solid against you in the best way possible and his tongue danced in your mouth, slowly getting you even more worked up. You were sure that his goal was not to fuck you, but to drive you insane, to get you so horny you would simply rip off his remining clothes.

You broke the kiss and stood up to wiggle out of your pants and underwear. Bin did not break eye contact as he did the same. His erection sprung free and you swallowed hard. He fished something out of his pocket and lay down on the bed again, waiting. You crawled on the bed towards him, running your hands up his legs as you did so. It had the effect you wanted. Bin gulped. A blush spread on his face and chest. Your hands reached his thighs and you decided this was actually your favorite part of his body. Those big muscles were just perfect. You gently pushed his legs apart and he watched as you kissed the sensitive insides of his thighs. He shivered when you sucked on the skin and something between a gasp and a moan escaped him. You pulled back to see your work and a red mark had appeared that would fade in a few minutes.

“Can you continue?”

Bin’s voice cracked and he looked at you with pleading eyes.

“Continue with what?”

You teased him but you were not also not sure what he wanted exactly. He licked his lips.

“Can you leave a mark there?”

The question was like a punch between the legs. You may have clenched around nothing upon hearing that. Not trusting your voice you nodded and leaned down to the red circle on his thigh. Bin would have a bruise there for days. Bin would see the bruise there for days. And think of me every time he sees it. You sucked hard on the spot, making sure it would form a bruise and listened to Bin’s heavy breathing.

When you were satisfied with your work you pulled back and looked at his face. A thin layer of sweat covered Bin’s skin and he had closed his eyes. His hand clutched your bed sheet and you smiled.

“Was it good?”

You asked in the more innocent tone you could muster.

“Yes, very.”

He pressed the words out rather than saying them. You loved that you could affect him like this. He handed you the condom that had been in his pocket and rolled it on. You loved teasing him and for good measure you took him into your mouth. He gasped and his hand grabbed the sheets tight again as if it was the only thing anchoring him. After a few good sucks you let go, You did not want him to come just yet.

You swung your legs over hips and aligned him with your entrance. He slipped in easily but that did not mean it was bad. The stretch was just right and you moaned quietly. With a whimper your hips came to rest against his. Bin’s hands landed on your thighs and moved up to your hips. He licked his lips. You loved how he looked under you, all big and strong but so at you mercy. His breathing hitched when you tentatively rocked your hips.

Ride me to your hearts content. His words echoed in your mind. Don’t mind if I do.

His hands held onto your hips as you rocked against him, his fingers pressing into your skin. You leaned back a little, changing the angle. The pressure on your g spot increased in this position and you let out a moan.

"Stop."

You froze. Bin sighed in relieve. His thumbs rubbed circles on your hips.

"Everything okay?"

You hoped that you had not hurt him somehow.

"I’m fine it was just really close."

He did not meet your eyes. Bin was embarrassed that he almost came. You leaned forward and kissed him. The kiss was intended to encourage him but it escalated into an intense display of how much you wanted to fuse with one another. He was already in you, how much closer could you get?

"Wanna switch?"

Bin nodded with glazed over eyes.

"Lie on your belly."

You wondered what he had on his mind. Doggy style had its appeal but it was hard to come for you. He guided you to lay down flat and straddled your hips. Okay this is not doggy style. When he slipped into you again, you knew why he want this position. With every thrust he brushed your g spot. His hot breath tickled your neck when he asked: "Do you like it?"

He supported his weight with his arms and slowly slid in and out. It was not exactly the pounding he had promised but damn, it was so much better. You clenched around him for more pressure where you wanted it most, but that was not the best strategy. His thrusts were shallow and you simply pushed him out. You let out an annoyed noise at the loss.

"You’re a little too greed."

He kissed neck as he pushed in again.

"Don’t worry."

His hips moved slowly as before, controlled and patient. "I will make you come."

You involuntarily clenched around him this time. Bin’s slow but steady thrusts build you up but it was nerve-racking. You were so ready to come but the last bit was missing. A little more was all you needed.

"Bin please."

He grunted and sucked on your neck as he sped up. It was still not enough. You wanted to touch your clit to finally come but you could not get your hand down there nor would you be able to move your fingers once you were there. Bin’s thrusts went deeper now not hitting your g spot as often and you wanted to cry. You were so close, just a little more.

He pulled out and you whimpered.

"Bin."

You felt like you were either going to get angry or cry or both. He pushed you and turned you around. Oh, fuck. His face did not have his usual soft smile, instead he was concentred and a fire burned behind his eyes. He ran a hand threw his hair and you got another good look his spectacular body. Those wide shoulders will be the death of me. He did not give you more time to complain, but wrapped your legs around his hips. Your arms crossed behind his neck and pulled him in for a kiss. Even though you were technically on the bottom, had more control of his movements now than ever. You used your legs to guide Bin’s hips and now you noticed how strong he was. His hips snapped against your at an ever faster and harder pace. Your fingers tangled in his wet hair. So close. His muscles were really not just for show. Your body tensed and Bin’s movements became more erratic. You arched your back of the bed and you probably pulled out some of his hairs. His thrusts became weaker as you rode out your orgasm and he stopped soon after.

He buried his face in your neck, his breathing going fast. Your legs were a bit shaky but you still wrapped them around him, not ready to let him go yet. His breathing slowed and more of his weight rested on you. You wiggled under him, changing your position slightly.

"Am I too heavy?"

"No, just my boobs are not pillows. It hurts when there is too much pressure on them. Now it’s okay tho."

You stroked his hair and he sighed. It was a little bit too warm for your taste under his body but the weight of Bin on you was comforting, anchoring you to the here and now. He was not as hard anymore, but it still felt good to have him inside you. Bin pressed some lazy kisses to your shoulder. He pushed himself up slowly and slid out. You pouted a little and he explained: “I was gonna fall asleep on you.”

You wanted to say it did not matter but Bin was quite heavy, it would have been hard to breathe. He went to your bathroom and when he came back he lay down next to you.

The atmosphere had changed. You were not sure what would happen now. You had not exactly talked much about it beforehand. Bin looked good in your bed but also very tired.

“What’s gonna happen now?”

At the words a short panic blew away his sleepiness. He studied your face.

“Do you want to go on a date sometime?”

#wkcnet #noonasinnetwork #Astro smut #Astro Moonbin smut # Moonbin x reader #Astro x reader #kpop x reader #Astro fanfic #Astro fics #kpop fanfic #kpop smut #star writing #queue for the lemonade stand

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football-and-fanfics · 3 years

Text

Smut Week posting #1

Who: Martin Odegaard Request: Please could you do a smut week one for Martin odegaard where you go out and he gets jealous other boys are looking at you and you go home and have great sex cos he’s jealous and showing you who he belongs to x Requested by: anonymous Warnings: smut, public sex I changed this up a little bit, hope you'll still like it though ;-) Thanks for your request.

Martin's look at you from across the table was telling for his current mood. His eyes flashed through the pub you currently were at, celebrating a friend's birthday. The jealousy that emanated from him wasn't directed at you, but at a few other (single) men attending the party and who were shamelessly flirting with you. Out of politeness you answered their questions, but your loyalty to Martin would always remain unwavering. Martin knew that, but the impertinence with which these guys were coming onto you irritated him infinitely. Halfway through the evening, you got up from your seat to use the bathroom. You were just about to close the stall door, when Martin jumped in with you. It wasn't a too tight fit, but neither very spacious for the both of you. "What are you doing?" You chuckled, as Martin locked the door behind him. "Those guys can't keep their eyes off you, can they?" His voice held an undertone you recognized only too easily. "You're jealous." You teased him in a sing-song voice. Martin stepped closer to you, pushing you gently back against the wall. "You bet I am," he growled softly, before teasingly giving your lower lip a gentle nibble. The action awoke a sudden yearning for him in you. Sex in a public restroom had never been on your bucket list, but suddenly that was all you longed for. "That is so hot." You hoped the gasp that escaped you didn't sound too desperate, but the smirk spreading across Martin's face was enough to know he had caught it. He gave you the most mischievous look, his hand sliding up your inner thigh and under your skirt. "Is this what you want?" His fingers found their way into your panties, teasingly playing with you already. "Yes," you breathed out. The sexual anticipation was already too much, and all you wanted was for Martin to fuck you right then and there. You got your wish. Not even a minute later, Martin was showing you who you belonged to. With his trousers around his ankles and your skirt forgotten on the floor, he was giving you all he had. Martin's lips roamed all over your neck, kissing every part of your skin he could reach. You had your back pressed against the wall, and one of your legs up on the toilet seat to give Martin better access. With each buck of his hips he went balls deep into you. Every thrust pushed you back firmer into the wall, as he pounded his jealousy away. You were sort of glad you had chosen the last stall in the row, and Martin had chosen to fuck you up against the solid side wall, for his thrusts came so hard now that you were sure he would have fucked you both right through the compartment wall separating the stalls. Martin's grunted moans rolled off your skin as you could feel him reaching his high. You threw your head back, moaning, with your own orgasm now clenching through you. "Ah, shit, babe." Martin whimpered against your neck. He trembled and spasmed as he came with a strained grunt. "Wow." Martin stilled, still balls deep inside of you. "That was so hot." You chuckled, out of breath and legs still trembling with the aftermath of your orgasm. "Did it help with the jealousy?" "Oh, yes." He planted a series of softy kisses on your collarbone. "I have no doubts that you're all mine." Tags: @glam-khal, @evie-pr, @gryffinwars, @auawdo, @meteora-fc, @de-geas, @grealishstones

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meetmyblondemuffins · 3 years

Text

Jealousy, Jealously

warnings: fighting

As Sirius pulled into his usual spot by Hagrid’s cabin. Once the motorcycle came to a stop Y/n hopped off the back. This has been their usual routine since way before they even started dating. Before they were together, which EVERYONE saw coming.

"Thanks for the ride. As always." Y/n thanked him as she gets off the back of his bike, handing him the helmet he designated as hers years ago.

"You know, you don't have to thank me every morning for giving you a ride. Your my girl, Y/m/n/n." Sirius gave Y/n a knowing look. Taking the helmet from her hands.

Y/n smiled leaning forward, to lean against Sirius's chest., "I can still be grateful."

Sirius shook his head letting out a quick laugh. "You'll be the death of me. I swear."

The time they wasted before school started was just filled with laughs, jokes, and the occasional kiss. Even though the kisses were a little more PG, but possessive on Sirius's part.

"Who is that?" Brett a new guy to the school who recently moved from California asked the guys around him.

"No, dude. She's Black's girl." Peter waved his hands in the air trying to call off the guys thoughts.

"Yeah, don't go near her." James agreed, trying to deter the new guy from a path that he does not want to go down.

"Why not?" Brett asked still watching Y/n giggle and lean into Sirius from across the parking lot.

"Sirius Black has a bad temper. And a habit of getting into fights." Remus stated to the new guy hoping it was enough for Brett to drop it.

James nodded in agreement. "She makes him calm, so to speak."

"They've been together for years. Trust us, don't go near her with intentions of tearing them apart." Fabian stated along with the others.

But of course, Brett's attention seemed to never waver from the oldest Black and Y/n. His mind was made up. Y/n was gonna be his by the end of the day, he'll make her see he's better then Sirius.

"I have practice. You staying to watch?" Sirius asked as he walked up next to Y/n, leaning against the wall next to her.

"I already planned on staying, Sirius." Y/n smiled at him, putting the books away in her dorm after a long day of schoolwork.

"Good" Sirius smirked wrapping his arm around her shoulders all the while taking her backpack from her.

Once they got to the quidditch pitch Sirius helped Y/n set up where she was gonna be sitting and waiting for the practice to end. He set down her bag. After making sure Y/n was situated he left to go to the locker room to change with the rest of the guys, while Y/n got started on homework. By the time all the guys came out dressed and ready for practice Y/n had already finished her homework. So, she decided to start drawing in her notebook. That is till someone decided to walk over to her and judging by their stature it wasn't her boyfriend.

"What a beautiful girl like you doing here?" Brett asked once he stood infront of Y/n. It was obvious whoever this guy was to Y/n he had to be new or stupid. Especially if he dared to flirt with her. New or stupid.

"I go to school here." Y/n replaied taking a swift glance up at him. Before continuing with her doodle.

"Cute. But what I meant was, why are you watching practice? Like seeing all the shirtless guys?" Brett let out a laugh as if she couldn't tell what he was really doing. With what he asked it was obvious to her he thinks he's God's gift to the world, and that she must have been watching him.

"There's only one shirtless guy I'm here for and I happen to be dating him." Y/n looked at the new guy and stared at him directly in the eyes. She stated her words hoping he'd get that he's not wanted and that she's taken.

"Hey, who the hell is that?" Sirius asked the guys, nodding in the direction of some guy talking to his Y/n.

"We warned him, Sirius. We swear." Fabian stated, being the first to answer a close to turning red Sirius Black.

Then James jumped in as well. "We told him that she was taken and she's your girl."

"Who is he?" Sirius asked, trying to keep his voice level.

"New guy, Brett. He's on the team or at least the madam hooch is giving him a chance. He was asking about Y/n earlier when you both pulled into the parking lot. We told him she was taken, by you and that he shouldn't mess with you but..." Gideon explained.

"Apparently he doesn't listen." Sirius stated before walking over to where his girl is and to where the school's newest idiot is currently standing.

"That can always change." Brett smirked and wiggled his eyebrows towards Y/n, who if anyone looked could tell she felt uncomfortable.

"I don't want it to." Y/n stated with a fire in her eyes. She wouldn't trade Sirius for anything.

"Are you sure he feels the same on that?" Brett leaned down to be closer the Y/h/c-ed girl. Who in his mind was just being stubborn.

Y/n was ready to rip this guys head off. But right when she was about to get up and do some damage she saw her boyfriend approaching. "I'm pretty sure he does." Y/n smiled.

"What makes you think that?" Brett asked pretending to be curious but it was obvious he was gonna try and twist what she says.

"She thinks that because I tell her all the time." Sirius spoke with a tone that could scare the bravest of men. Once Brett turned around Sirius decked him.

"He does." Y/n raised even though she knew Brett's attention wasn't on her anymore. She watched the fight, making sure it didn't get too out of hand.

"You were warned" Sirius stated lowly in the guy's ear. He knows he could hear him even if he might have a slight concussion.

"Yeah, I was. But I heard you're childhood sweethearts, that's a long time. I'm just showing her that her options are open." Brett spit out some blood getting up from the ground. Still taunting Sirius after getting beat up for a solid five minutes. Yup, he's an idiot.

"I don't want any other options." Y/n spoke making sure all her words came out clear as day. To get it through his obviously thick skull. She even went as far as to lean down a little so he could also read her lips.

Sirius smirked at the idiot that kept losing his balance. "Now, I suggest you leave my girl alone and do not try this again."

"Y-yeah." Brett stuttered.

Once Brett scurried away Sirius turned to face Y/n and was silently checking her over with his eyes and hands checking her over to make sure she was ok. "You ok?"

Y/n nodded doing the same thing, checking him over. "Yeah, I'm ok. Are you?"

"I'm fine." Sirius waved her off.

"Sirius..." Y/n whined his name out knowing how he likes to hide the fact he's hurt when he is.

"Your ok, I didn't end up beating him into a pulp. So yeah I'm ok. I promise, Y/n" Sirius looked her in the eyes adoring how much she cares about his wellbeing.

"You know I don't want anyone else but you, right?" Y/n asked him cupping his cheek and neck looking at him with the same look in her eyes.

Sirius reassuring her. Lightly pulling her closer into his embrace. "I know. You know I don't want anyone else but you too, right?"

"I know." Y/n nodded moving into his awaiting arms.

"Good" he mumbled into the top of her head.

"Good. What do you say we head back?" she asked looking up at her giving her a kiss to her cheek and going to change since practice had ended due to the fight. So, they can back to their dorm and just have some alone time together.

taglist

@meetmyblondemuffins @siriusblackswife24 @drownie @f0lkl0verm0re @siriusblackwh0re @gr4cein9h4m @lostredheadinablondeworld

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just-another-blog-of-fluff · 3 years

Text

A Difficult Question

Word count: 3000

Warnings: continued second-hand embarrassment? 😉 tickling, fluff as always

This is in response to a prompt from @sigyn-laufeyson0609 for a sequel to An Embarrassing Secret. Thanks for the idea friend! 😊 I snuck in a little soft Loki toward the end, just to switch things up a little!

* * *

You had avoided Loki for a solid week after he had revealed he knew about your blog. Although he didn’t seem to find it as strange as you’d have expected him to, you couldn’t help but feel a little exposed. Your writing wasn’t something you’d intended to show anyone, much less the tall, handsome, alien god who made you feel giddy every time he said your name.

Despite your concern that he would tell the others, no one else so much as breathed a word about your little secret. Either they were too kind to say anything for fear of embarrassing you, or he truly hadn’t told anyone else. You hoped it was the latter, although you supposed it couldn’t get any worse than Loki finding out.

You couldn’t avoid him forever, though. The first time you ran into him, other than those brief moments in passing where you ducked your head or turned the other way, you were sitting in the library again, this time actually reading something rather than typing on your laptop. (No way were you risking leaving that out in public again…) Loki had entered the library without your knowledge, having been engrossed in the novel you were reading while sitting in one of the comfortable armchairs. A sudden squeeze to your side alerted you to his presence, causing you to jolt and whip your head around to find the god smirking down at you. He shot you a wink before continuing on to browse the shelves.

Somehow, that brief interaction had eased your anxiety around him. You didn’t really want to stay away from him, after all. And it seemed like he was going to treat the whole situation as a game, which in a strange way made you feel better about the whole situation. You would much rather he use this little secret for some lighthearted flirting versus making a big show about it.

So, you went back to your usual routines, no longer trying to shy away from him. He rewarded you with the occasional poke to the side while passing by you in the hallway, or a quick pinch to the soft skin above your knee during movie night with the team. And, maybe, you started trying to provoke him a little more. Doing little irritating things like stealing the last cookie right from under his nose or changing the channel during one of the rare moments he was actually watching something on the television usually earned you a couple extra scribbles to the belly, or a fluttering of fingers to the neck.

It never lasted longer than a couple seconds at most, though. Most of the time that was plenty for you, just long enough to make your heart beat faster with adrenaline and for heat to prickle in your cheeks.

But not today.

No, today you were really in the mood to be tickled senseless. You were even making sarcastic comments to some of the other Avengers, hoping that someone might just decide they’d had enough of your sass. Although no one else knew you actually enjoyed it, everyone was aware that you were more ticklish than the average person. It was uncommon for the others to take advantage of it, but on rare occasions Thor or Tony would dig their fingers into your ribs to get you to stop talking if you were being particularly annoying. Today, though, no one was getting the hint.

You didn’t see Loki until later that evening, when you stumbled across him in the common room. He was alone, sitting on the couch with his back leaned up against the cushions and his feet up on the coffee table. He had a book in his hand, which he seemed pretty focused on, turning a page every few seconds as his eyes skimmed across the aging pages.

“You’re hovering again,” he observed suddenly, never once lifting his gaze from his book. Startled, you left your position from the doorway and entered the room, taking a seat on the other side of the couch.

“I’ll never understand how you know people are there without even seeing them,” you marveled.

“I’ve told you before – it’s impossible to sneak up on me.”

“Well maybe I’ll be the first someday.” You sat back against the couch, and silence blanketed the room, save for the occasional crinkling of the pages of Loki’s book as he continued to read. You realized that this would be the perfect opportunity to try to provoke the Asgardian to tickle you – you were alone in the common room, and he seemed to be in a state of focus where he would be pretty irritated if you broke his concentration.

You wanted to be subtle, though. You wouldn’t want him to think you were asking for it, after all, and as he was the only person who knew about your secret, you figured he would see through you pretty quickly if you tried too hard. So, you started simple by leaning forward and picking up the remote from the coffee table, turning on the television. You found a program he had previously expressed disinterest in and set the channel to that, settling back against the couch cushions, and turning up the volume.

Loki was silent despite all of this, so you stole a glance in his direction. His brow was furrowed a little, but his gaze was still fixed on the pages of his novel. Need to try harder, you thought to yourself. You cranked up the volume a little more and laughed a little extra loud at every joke. After trying this for a few minutes, you risked another glance in his direction.

Nothing. Not even a flinch.

You were starting to get a little desperate. The desire for someone to tickle you had settled itself like a flame in your belly, and it had been slowly building all day long. But you were too proud, too embarrassed to just come out and ask for it. You had to find another way.

You turned your body so you were leaning back against the arm of the couch and stretched your legs out across the couch cushions, your feet only inches away from Loki’s leg. This time, you didn’t even chance looking over at him, knowing he wouldn’t try anything if he thought you were expecting it. You sat still for a maddening amount of time without finding any success in your attempts. You stretched one leg out a little further and tapped his leg with your foot.

Nothing.

You tried again, this time with a little more force. At long last, the trickster looked up from his book to glare at you.

“Can I help you?” he asked, his tone flat.

“Uhh… no, sorry,” you replied quickly. He turned his attention back to his book, and you turned back to the TV, feeling a bit deflated. Your mood was still gnawing at your insides, though, and you weren’t quite ready to give up just yet.

You waited a few moments, trying to think of another way to get on his nerves. Maybe you just needed to try a different angle.

“So… watcha reading?” you inquired.

“Shakespeare,” he stated without looking up.

“Oh. That’s really old though, isn’t it?”

“’Old’ is a relative term. What you consider ‘old’ is actually quite new for someone my age.”

“Right. Because you’re old too,” you snickered. This got him to look up at you again finally.

“Pardon?” he asked, his eyes narrowing.

“Well, like you said, ‘old’ is relative. So, compared to me, you’re really old.” You held his gaze, a triumphant grin threatening to spread across your face.

“Yes, I am ‘old’ compared to you I suppose. And yet, you still seem to like what you see.”

Your face flushed hot.

“I- well- that’s not… never mind,” you huffed, turning away from him once again. You heard his book snap shut, the cover making a small thumping sound as he set it down on the table.

“You seem a bit off today. Is there something with which you require assistance?” You glanced up to find his blue-green eyes fixed on you. It was difficult to read his expression – he wasn’t annoyed, but he wasn’t overtly amused, either.

“What? No. Why do you ask?”

“Well, you’re watching a television show you and I both know you hate, laughing loudly and turning the volume up, and just generally trying to capture my attention,” he listed. “If I didn’t know any better, I would assume you were trying to get me to tickle you.”

“W-what!? Pshh. That’s… that’s ridiculous,” you stammered, folding your arms defiantly across your chest. “Just because I don’t mind it doesn’t mean I would ask for it.”

“I see.” Loki sat back against the couch again, picking up his novel and reopening it to his bookmarked page. “So, you won’t mind if I go back to reading in peace, then?”

“Nope,” you affirmed, popping the P for emphasis. You leaned back into your seat once again, your arms still crossed. You changed the channel to another show you were more interested in so you could try to forget about this whole thing by distracting yourself.

Once again, the room fell silent, with the exception of the voices on the television and the flipping of Loki’s book pages. Your heart sank deeper in your chest in disappointment. You almost had him there – why did he have to go and ruin it by observing out loud that you wanted to be tickled?

“Honestly, y/n, you look as if someone put something sour in your drink,” Loki said finally, placing his book back on the coffee table.

“I’m fine,” you insisted flatly, refusing to look at him.

“I’ve told you before – if you want me to tickle you, all you have to do is ask.” You observed him in your peripheral vision, your stomach swooping at the mischievous gleam in his eyes.

“No,” you stated.

“No? No what? No, you don’t want me to tickle you? Or no, you refuse to ask?”

“Just… no.” You pulled your feet closer to your body, sitting crisscross on the couch with your arms still folded across your torso. Loki chuckled, a smirk tugging at his lips.

“You sound like a petulant child.”

“Do not!” you argued. Loki didn’t respond – he merely held his hand out at you, silently noting that you’d proven his point. You huffed and turned away from him, pretending to turn your focus back to the television.

“I know exactly what you’re trying to do, darling,” he sang, scooting closer to you on the couch. “You are hoping to provoke me sufficiently to make me retaliate and tickle you. You’ve been doing so since you saw me from the doorway. Don’t try to deny it.”

Heat was crawling up your neck into your cheeks again, and you squeezed your mouth shut, shaking your head defiantly. He shuffled a bit closer, now only inches away from you. “I’m sorry to tell you, dear, but you’re going to have to ask me properly.” You let out an involuntary groan at that, your heart pounding at the sheer proximity of the god beside you. “Use your words, darling. What is it that you want?”

Your resolve was breaking. This whole exchange was only enhancing your lee mood, and he’d made it clear that you wouldn’t get anything out of him without actually coming out and asking for it bluntly. It was difficult to form the words in your mouth.

“I… erm… could you… uh…”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t quite catch that,” he teased, his smirk broadening.

“Could you… would you, maybe… couldyoutickleme?” The words finally came tumbling out of your mouth, and as soon as you said it you found yourself pinned down on the couch, the god of mischief hovering over you with a victorious smirk on his face.

“Now, y/n, was that really so difficult?” Before you had the chance to tell him exactly how difficult it was, he cut you off by digging his fingers into your ribcage. He knew it was a weaker spot, drawing rambunctious laughter from you as you grasped his wrists. You weren’t really making any effort to try to push him away, of course, but it gave you something to do with your hands. “For someone who wanted this so badly, you’re making it exceedingly difficult with your incessant squirming.”

“I cahahan’t help ihihit!!” you exclaimed, arching your back as his fingers darted down to your belly. He wouldn’t give you the chance to get accustomed to one spot, quickly moving to scribble into your sides or drill his thumbs into your hips. It was exactly what you’d been hoping would happen all day today, and yet still you could barely handle it as ticklish shocks wracked through your body.

“Let’s see, now – where else are you ticklish? I don’t have your little narratives open for reference this time, so I suppose I’m going to have to find out for myself,” he pondered aloud, tone laced with mischief. “Ah! How about here?” Loki slipped his fingers under your arms, causing you to clamp them down to your sides. That didn’t stop him, though, continuing to vibrate his fingers into your uppermost ribs. The sensation made you shriek, throwing your head back and laughing with abandon.

“Nohoho Loki! Not there!” you cried, feebly pulling at his wrists as much as you could with your arms pressed to your sides.

“No? On the contrary, dear, I think it’s a perfectly effective spot.” You twisted involuntarily, accidentally rolling off the couch and face first onto the floor with a thud. Loki was at your side in a flash, kneeling beside you with a hand on your shoulder. “Are you alright?”

“Y-yehehes,” you giggled, heart fluttering at the idea that he was so concerned about you possibly being hurt. You turned to roll onto your back to look up at him, but he pressed down on your shoulder, holding you in place.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he asked ominously, his fingers moving to dig into your ribcage with renewed vigor. Not being able to see his hands was so much better worse. You tried desperately to roll onto your side but each time he would shift both hands to the newly exposed side, forcing you to roll back onto your stomach to protect the sensitive skin there. “Shall I ‘go in for the kill’ as they say?”

“No! Don’t! Anything but that!” you pleaded, although you both knew your heart wasn’t really in it.

“Sorry, darling, but as I recall, you did ask for this.” With that, his fingertips scribbled into that wretched spot on the back of your upper ribs. You kicked your feet against the floor in ticklish agony, your laughter pitching up an octave. Before long, your laughter grew silent, prompting him to ease up on you and scratch lightly at your sides. You turned to roll onto your back, and he allowed it this time, chuckling at your disheveled state. You took a moment to catch your breath, chest heaving with exertion, and you twitched occasionally when his fingertips found an extra sensitive spot on your side.

Loki’s fingers stilled against your sides, and you frowned up at him, feeling a sense of loss without his touch. He laughed heartily at that, a genuine smile spreading across his lips.

“Silly girl, was that not enough for you? Do you need me to continue?” Before waiting for your answer, he reached down and fluttered his fingers behind both knees. You squealed in surprise, giggles spilling from your lips. Loki sat on your shins to avoid any accidental kicks to the face, shifting to knead at the soft skin just above your knee on your inner thigh. You hadn’t anticipated just how unbearably ticklish that spot could be.

“Wait wait wahahait!! Stahahap!!” you cried, trying desperately to yank your legs out from under the Asgardian.

“Ah, I see I’ve identified a new– what do you call it? ‘Death spot’?”

Your laughter was growing hoarse, and Loki took this as his cue to let up again, getting up off your legs and kneeling beside you. You were exhausted, but the endorphins coursing through your veins made you feel giddy.

“That… that was mean,” you said breathlessly.

“I’ll remind you once again, you asked for it,” he retorted.

Loki stood up and offered you a hand to help you off the floor, which you gratefully accepted. You stood there awkwardly for a moment, not certain what to say. For the first time, you noticed Loki was also at a loss for words; his hand moved to the back of his neck, and he glanced around the room, uncertainty in his eyes.

On a whim (or maybe it was just the residual adrenaline, you’ll never know) you leaned forward and wrapped your arms around the bewildered god in front of you.

“Thanks, Loki,” you whispered into his shoulder. He stood frozen for a moment before finally sliding his arms around you as well, squeezing you tight.

“Anytime, love,” he replied, his voice low and gruff, softer than you’d ever heard him speak. You hugged him for another moment before releasing the trickster and hurrying off to your room, hoping to hide away before you could say anything to ruin things.

And, you can bet, you would be doing some more writing tonight.

Part 3: A Cozy Evening

#ticklish!reader #loki tickle #tickle fic #tickle fluff #marvel tickle #soft loki

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young-dumb-and-vaccinated · 3 years

Text

The Sommelier (Hannigram x Female!Reader) pt. 5

More people said yes to Hannigram, which is good because Will is already involved in the plot and it would be awkward to have him just disappear. Also, I had someone request a Hannigram x reader in my asks. Apologies to the one person who voted no; I promise there will be more solo Hannibal x reader content in the future.

Hannibal decides to that y/n could do with some extra protection, but doesn’t anticipate what she has to tell him.

I have no idea how to make a proper tag list but @deadman-inc-bikeshop and @dovahdokren here you go

Trigger warnings: discussions of alcohol, victim blaming

“When I saw his face, I immediately knew he had never once experienced the touch of his own hand, let alone that of a woman.” Charissa read out loud to everyone on staff. “Or, that he was buried so deep in the closet he found Narnia, but those two things aren’t mutually exclusive.”

It was expected to be a slow night, as was normal for an ordinary Tuesday. On nights like those, you could get away with more, like reading a tabloid article out loud for everyone to hear.

“I can’t believe [F/N] actually went public.” One of the new busboys commented. “What an absolute madlad.”

“Did you just unironically use reddit terminology in an actual conversation?” You narrowed your eyes at the kid.

“[F/N], you are making a very dangerous enemy.” An older waitress said, cryptically, from the corner of the room.

“Who, Jason?” You gestured to the busboy. “What’s he gonna do? Make me cringe myself to death?”

“You know that’s not who I mean.” She frowned. “I’m talking about Chase Mulvaney.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” You shook your head. “He’s not stupid enough to come back here.”

Charissa made a noise that denoted her doubt. “I dunno, [F/N]. You’d have to be pretty stupid to start stabbing people at a crowded restaurant in broad daylight.”

“But he was smart enough to get away, right?” Jason asked. “That’s gotta count for something!”

You and Charissa exchanged glances. Neither of you had the emotional bandwidth to explain white privilege again. Instead, you just humored him.

“Yeah.” Charissa lied. “He was smart enough to get away, meaning he probably knows better than to come back.”

"You're kidding yourself." A third waitress, who's name you couldn't seem to place, added. "People always say that killers are these galaxy-brained superhumans, but they're not. Mulvaney believes he's divinely ordained, so any thought that pops into his coked-out head is a sign from god."

And so shattered your thin firmament of denial. You made a point to never learn this person's name just out of spite.

“Oh, shit.” You said, trying to hide your genuine fear with a sarcastic voice. “Maybe he is coming back for me.”

Charissa glared at the two other waitresses, equally pissed at them for scaring you.

"And it'll be your own fault for provoking him with that article." The older waitress said.

"Holy victim-blaming, batman." You mumbled.

“Alright, listen up, y’all.” Matthew announced to the group. “In ten minutes we open for dinner. Remember, if you want to switch shifts with another person, you have to run it by me first. I don’t want to see anybody but [F/N] at the bar tonight, capiche?”

“Yessir.” You saluted him and made your way over to the bar. You’d been doling out your bartending shifts left and right to avoid even the possibility of being cornered by another Freddie Lounds. You were only prolonging the inevitable, though. Eventually, you needed to return to the bar.

You passed the hostess's stand, where Charissa was stationed. Suddenly, you felt someone grab at your arm.

"Fucking hell, dude?!" You flinched violently and your heart rate jumped. "Don't do that!"

"Shit, sorry!" Charissa looked immediately regretful. "But, look!"

You followed her gaze through the window where a fancy car was parked. He leaned against the door, adjusting the cuffs of his dress shirt.

Now your heart was beating fast for a completely different reason. You squeezed Charissa's hand, trying to keep a lid on your nervous excitement.

"I think your luck's starting to turn." She said in a sing-songy voice.

"Yeah, I bet he'll protect me from the Baltimore Butcher." You whispered, trying not to giggle like an elementary school girl.

"Oh, could you imagine those arms around you?" She sighed deeply, her hand firmly against her chest. "I would die."

"Not until he sinks his teeth into your neck." You smirked, gnashing your teeth together.

"I would let him." She rested her chin on her hand.

"Yeah, me too." You agreed.

"I would give anything to trade shifts with you." Charissa groaned.

"Well, you heard the boss." You shrugged, suddenly feeling much better about your assignment. "I gotta stay behind the bar."

"Oh, pobrecita." Charissa rolled her eyes. Underneath the stand, she put up her middle finger in your direction. "Suck a dick, [L/N]."

You walked backwards towards the bar, keeping your eyes on your friend. "That's the plan, baby."

You tried to make yourself look busy. You dared not look at him as he entered the restaurant.

He exchanged pleasantries with Charissa then took his seat at the bar. You pretended not to notice him right away, only to give you an extra second to compose yourself.

"Hi there." You greeted, knowing you'd feel stupid no matter what you said. "Er- good evening."

"[F/N] [L/N], I assume?" He asked.

Fuck, you thought. His voice was dark, low and made your insides tremble. Even though part of you knew he was going to know your name, it still felt so sensual passing his lips.

You realized you had waved to him with your bandaged hand. That's how he was about to identify you so quickly. "Yes, I am she. I mean- her. Me."

Way to go, dumbass. You thought. Now he knows you're nervous and he's going to wonder why.

“God, I need to stop wearing this damn thing.” You said, clearing your throat. “What can I get for you tonight?”

He was quiet for a moment. "What do you recommend?"

"Well, that depends." You said, pulling your gaze from him and grabbing a few wine glasses down from a high shelf. It was the only way you could maintain your composure.

"On?"

"What you're having for dinner, for one." You said. "And whether or not you're a vulpine tabloid journalist trying to corner me into a dubiously ethical interview. That's also a factor."

"So that's how Miss Lounds wore you down?" He concluded. "With wine?"

You rested your elbows on the bar, filled with an intoxicating confidence. "She tried wine first. Then she tried to get me fired because she asked for chardonnay and I brought her chablis. And when that didn't work, she siphoned my gas."

"I wish I could say that was out of character for her." He looked at you, apologetically.

"I take it you've had your own run-ins with Freddie?" You smiled.

"She's tried to infiltrate my practice multiple times." He sighed. "She's entered my office under a fake name with a recording device in her purse."

"What a sick fuck." You said, before remembering you really weren't supposed to curse in front of customers. You covered your mouth. "Sorry."

The corners of his mouth turned up into an amused smile. "Don't apologize. You're right."

“So you’re a doctor?” You asked, hoping he wasn’t the type to be offended by questions.

“I’m a psychiatrist.” He nodded. “I used to work as a surgeon, but I find the mind much more compelling.”

"Seriously, though." You pushed yourself back to your feet. "What can I get for you?"

He eyed the wine menu and then looked back at you. "What is your favorite red?"

"My favorite red?" You placed your hand on your collarbones. "On a night like this, I enjoy a nice, dry Argentinean Malbec."

"In that case," he thumbed through the list once more. "I'll have a bottle of Cobos Chañares from 2016, please."

You smiled. You wouldn't mind taking a sip of that if he offered. "Right away."

You carefully pulled the solid black bottle from its crevice and placed it on the bar. You removed the plastic seal and reached for the corkscrew. The bottle opened with a satisfying pop, filling the air around you with the strong, complex and seemingly contradictory aromas.

You poured a bit of this criminally expensive wine into his glass. He smelled it, then swirled it for a moment before taking a sip.

"Redcurrants and vanilla," he began. "With floral notes that operate with the precision of interlocking gears in a clock. Everything in its place."

"So you're a sommelier and a poet?" You tilted your head and filled his glass. "I'll bet you make women swoon at every corner."

You never had the best grasp on flirting, but even you knew that line was awful.

“Are you flirting with me, Miss [L/N]?” He asked, clearly not too worried about the consequences and enjoying the flattery. “Or are you just trying to get a taste of this Malbec?”

“Little bit of column A, little bit of column B.” You shrugged. “Though you are as handsome as everyone says, I’ve had my eyes on that wine for slightly longer.”

You fought the urge to slap your hand over your mouth. You had just broken the cardinal rule of workplace gossip. Panic reverberated through your body as you tried to break down his unreadable expression.

Once again, he just looked amused. “I’ve seen those lingering glances, the way you all whisper and giggle. It’s flattering.”

You felt your cheeks growing hot. “...I see.”

“If you tell me what they say about me, I’ll let you have a taste.” His eyes bored into yours.

You paused, trying to decipher exactly what he was offering. Then it hit you.

“Oh!” You interjected. “The wine.”

“Yes, that’s what I meant.” He said. “Dare I ask where your mind went?”

Your cheeks stung from all the uncomfortable smiling. “I’d really like to keep my job, thanks.”

“Have you never heard of bartender-client confidentiality?” His voice lowered and his eyes found your lips. “Nothing we say tonight has to leave these four walls.”

Your insides turned to jelly. He rested the wine glass in his hand and offered it to you. Your hands shaking, you cradled the glass like an 18th century French village prostitute being offered a mug of hot soup. You brought the glass to your lips, the strong, overwhelming smells assaulting your orifices.

You let the wine grace your tongue. You had taught yourself to overcome the sting of the alcohol and focus on the undertones. Your eyes rolled back in to your head and you let out a little noise of pleasure.

“Christ on a bike, that’s decadent.” You said, gasping for air a little bit. You quickly passed the glass back to him before Matthew could see you. “Thank you.”

“Now, indulge me.” He instructed, glancing at the fresh pink lipstick mark on his glass. “What do the lovely women of Terroir whisper while I’m just out of earshot?”

You rested your elbows on the bar and leaned in close. “They say you’re a vampire.”

Judging by his unchanging neutral expression, it clearly wasn’t the first time someone had made that connection. “Perhaps they’re on to something.”

“One of our line cooks used to say you were the devil.” You informed him, hoping that was one he hadn’t heard before.

“Used to?” He raised his eyebrows.

“Until Chase Mulvaney came around.” You instinctively ran your fingers over your bandages, as if to make sure they were still there. It was a nervous tick you’d developed anytime someone brought up that day. “He’s stopped talking about, like, anything having to do with his religion ever since.”

“It takes a lot to get an evangelist to stop evangelizing.” He refilled his glass. “Do you think he lost his faith?”

“I heard someone say in passing that it was because he and Chase Mulvaney went to the same church.” You whispered. “But I can’t verify that.”

“I’d say it’s more likely than a regular customer being a vampire, wouldn’t you?”

“I wouldn’t trust their word because they made a regular customer into a vampire.” You corrected, hoping he would overlook the fact that you were one of them. “Secrets may stay within these four walls, but they tend to bounce around. It’s only a matter of time before one escapes, and you’d better hope it’s not one of yours.”

This man must have been an exceptional therapist, because, there you were, baring your soul to him after fifteen minutes and one sip of wine. Occasionally, you were pulled away from the conversation by another customer who had the audacity to also want a drink. But, very few people came to you with the sole intent of drinking on a Tuesday evening. You and the sommelier talked until closing time.

“Thank you for a lovely evening, Miss [L/N].” He said pulling out his wallet. “You are as delightful in person as you are on paper.”

“Thank you, but I never caught-” you said, but stopped yourself. “I mean, you never gave me your name.”

He signed his name on the paper check, then pulled out a fifty and unceremoniously handed it to you. “Now why would you want to ruin the mystery?”

“Nothing we say tonight has to leave these four walls, remember?” You grinned and crossed your arms. “Come on, I won’t tell anyone.”

He took the customer copy of the receipt and scribbled something down on it. He the folded it in half and slid it in your direction as if it contained nuclear launch codes.

“Join me for dinner someday.” He ordered. “I’ll supply the Malbec.”

#hannibal x reader #hannibal lecter #hannibal nbc #hannibal x you #hannigram #hannigram x reader #the sommelier #wine #tw trauma #tw victim blaming #tw alcohol

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candyflosstoxicity · 3 years

Text

Wanna Be Your Setting Lotion

Endeavor x Black!Reader

Warnings: 18+, minors DNI. Power imbalance. Unsafe sex. Creampie. Breeding kink. Breath play. Pain play.

Despite the sizable uptick in his popularity after triumphing over the High-End Nomu, Enji still felt that his ability to relate to the everyday civilians was sorely lacking. There was still some doubt amongst the masses that he could be a suitable replacement for All Might. As much as that stung his ego, Enji knew that their misgivings weren’t unfounded.

He had promised his son that he would become a hero that he could be proud to call his father, and that meant more than just saving lives. Enji had to work to build a relationship with the public, and be a hero that was not only powerful, but approachable and relatable.

So, with his secretary’s assistance, Enji reached out to the most highly recommended media relations agency in Musutafu and requested that they pair him with a very particular type of publicist. He made sure to specify that they had to be thick-skinned and prepared to undertake all the work that would come with being the publicist to the number one hero. Though he had certainly made some important changes within himself, he still didn’t know how to talk to people and didn’t want to send the publicist running for the hills.

That was how you ended up standing outside the Endeavor Hero Agency. The glass skyscraper gleamed brightly under the sun, and really impressed upon you that this was happening. You had been assigned your first hero, but not just any run of the mill hero and it honestly had you feeling nervous in a way that you never had before. It’s not as if you doubted your ability to manage and improve the Flame Hero’s public image, but this was a major assignment that could either launch your career into the stratosphere or sink it like a stone.

After taking a few deep breaths to steady yourself, you walked briskly through the front entrance and into the main lobby, where you were greeted by the receptionist. You explained who you were and what you were there for, and she immediately hopped up from her desk in a panic and hastily led you to the elevator. It did nothing to quell your anxiety, because if his receptionist was losing her cool, what chance did you have against the man?

Upon reaching the top floor, the receptionist all but shoved you out of the elevator, giving you a hasty “good luck” while frantically pushing the button to close the door. You stumbled forward and were faced with a large, hardwood door. Having decided that you simply could not delay your assignment any further, you squared your shoulders, took decisive steps forward, and knocked on the door.

---------------------

That was several months ago, and you could say with hindsight that you were right to be anxious. While working for Endeavor was the best way to cut your teeth as a publicist, the man himself was...something fucking else.

It wasn’t just that he was physically intimidating, with his towering height and mountains of muscle. Honestly, you were able to quickly get past that and start working towards building a friendly, yet professional relationship with your boss. Except, he was the most tight-lipped, awkward person you had ever dealt with when he wasn’t in the process of saving lives. And when he was actually somewhat talkative, he was so intense that it left you flustered.

However, Enji always treated you with respect and courtesy, and when you did well, he told you as much. Heat would crawl its way from the top of your head to the tips of your toes whenever he would tell you, “You’ve done excellent work this week, (L/N)-san. Your efforts are appreciated.”

To anyone else and coming from anyone else, it might not mean much, but Todoroki Enji wasn’t just anyone. He had high standards for all of his employees, and you were no exception. Praise from him was hard to come by, and when it was directed at you, it made you feel some type of way.

It was obvious to everyone with a pulse that Enji was an incredibly attractive man. Indeed, every interview you scheduled for him with a female journalist found him being inundated with coy smiles, flirting, and pointed questions about his relationship status.

To be fair, you had asked him the same question, but only because it was important for you to know as the person who handled all of his public relations. It definitely wasn’t because you were lusting after your client and hoping that he was free to maybe, someday, knock your walls down.

Still, you had always prided yourself on being the consummate professional, so you refrained from asking any questions that were too personal. Even though you were so often alone with Enji in his penthouse office, with little to no interruption, and a lot of plush furniture he could fuck you on…

You shook your head sharply, your dark, curly hair moving with the motion. ‘Focus, bitch. Don’t be a goofy and try to fuck your boss. He would probably fire your ass before you could ask for a crumb of dick.’

It didn’t matter if you hadn’t gotten laid since you started working as his publicist; you were NOT going to fuck Todoroki Enji.

Little did you know, Enji was enduring his own share of suffering and sexual frustration. And he had no intentions of denying himself. For him, it was simply a matter of opportunity.

--------------------------

It was finally Friday evening, and Enji was more than ready for the weekend. After a solid week of double patrols, while squeezing in PR appearances that you had set up for him, he just wanted to sit down in his recliner at home and have a stiff drink. He was sitting at his desk with his laptop open, finishing up some last minute paperwork on a report he needed to submit to the Hero Public Safety Commission by Monday.

Just as he put the final signature on the last page, you came bursting through his office door, without knocking, of course. Not that he minded; it was always a treat to see you, even if you were a bit...distracting. Your shapely legs carried you briskly towards his desk and he couldn’t help but admire how enticing they looked sheathed in your sheer stockings. He almost missed what you were trying to tell him, too busy imagining them wrapped around his waist.

“Endeavor-san, I’m sorry to disturb you right before quittin’ time, but I just finalized the details of your appearance on Present Mic’s late night radio show for next weekend,” you chirped with no small amount of satisfaction. Ah, right; Enji had agreed to make time for that, considering Mic was very popular with the young crowd and an appearance on his show would do wonders for his popularity with that demographic.

“He promised to keep it light and casual, and most of the time block will be spent playing some music that you both enjoy. I cross-referenced his playlist with the list you compiled, and y’all have some bangers in common. We’ll need to go over your note cards again, but I’m sure you’ve got that part covered by now.”

Your eyes were focused on the folder in your hands, flipping through the papers there as you went over the last minute details. Enji’s eyes were watching you, though, and he found himself struggling to give a damn about Present Mic or his radio show. Not when you were standing before him, a radiant vision of smooth brown skin and a halo of curls. How badly he wanted to sink his fingers into them and tug your head back, make you submit to him…

“Endeavor-san, are you listening?”

The question coming from your pretty lips, in that sweet, but sharp voice, was enough to finally get his attention. He tore his gaze from your petite frame and looked up to see your dark brown eyes staring at him sternly. Enji coughed and shifted in his chair, trying to subtly adjust his now rock hard dick.

“My apologies, (Y/N), I’m a bit worn out from this week,” he hastily assured you. “If you wouldn’t mind emailing those notes to me, I will look over them again this weekend.”

Your expression softened and you tossed the folder onto his desk before walking around to the side and perching yourself on the edge. Enji could practically feel the blood rush to his dick with you sitting so close to him, the scent of your perfume immediately clouding his mind. Your already short skirt rode up even higher and he had to force himself to look you in the eye, which he regretted shortly after.

“Have I been riding you too hard, sir?”

Enji’s eyes narrowed slightly at you, thinking that you must be toying with him. But, your face was devoid of cunning, and you seemed genuinely concerned for his well-being. He wasn’t used to that kind of consideration from really anyone, especially not one of his employees.

“No, far from it. You probably take it a bit too easy on me, but you still produce amazing results. I would be completely clueless about this public relations crap if I didn’t have someone as bright and clever in my corner,” Enji rumbled, almost bashfully, the tips of his ears still pink from your accidental innuendo.

He had no way of knowing, but the feeling that Enji’s praise gave you was like a shot of adrenaline to you. Warmth bloomed in your cheeks, and you quickly began stuttering and trying to downplay your contribution. However, Enji was having none of it and reached out to grab your anxiously fluttering hands, which had the desired effect of shutting you up.

But, Enji didn’t stop there. He was tired of you not giving yourself enough credit. More than that, he was tired of only being able to show his gratitude in words. So, he took advantage of your size difference and tugged you into his arms and then settled you on his right thigh, forcing you to straddle the muscular appendage.

“E-Endeavor-san?!” you squeaked out. Your tiny hands were encased in his much larger ones and even that small bit of skin to skin contact was enough to set a fire low in your belly.

“Please, call me Enji. It seems a bit formal considering the things I want to do to you.”

“And what exactly do you want to do to me, Enji?” Your voice was low and breathless, but he could see the excitement clearly in your deep brown eyes.

He released your hands and let his own wander down the curve of your sides to settle on your hips. Still maintaining eye contact with you, he engulfed the soft flesh there with a gentle, but firm squeeze. You gasped softly and instinctually ground down against the flexing muscles of his thigh.

Enji growled lowly in his throat and took one hand off your hip, and reached up to bury it in the soft curls that framed your gorgeous face. At first, he gently massaged the scalp with his fingertips, but when he felt you relax, Enji used the curls at your nape to tug your head back.

He loved how small you were in his arms, how easily he towered over you and controlled your movements. And there you were, gasping and squirming in his lap, letting him touch you in such a dominating way. It stoked a fire within him that he hadn’t felt in a long while, urging him to make you fall apart under his touch.

“There are so many things that I want to do to this tight, little body,” Enji whispered against your throat. He placed a heated kiss there, followed by a gentle nip before continuing, “But, for now, I want you to ride my thigh.”

To his delight, you didn’t hesitate to start meekly rolling your hips forward, your skirt bunching up around your waist with the motions. Still, you seemed to be holding yourself back, and he was having none of that. Using the hand that was still gripping your hip, Enji forced you to press down harder and move faster. Getting the message, you braced your palms against his broad, solid chest and began grinding against him in earnest.

The filthy moans you let spill from your plump lips were music to Enji’s ears, and he struggled to refrain from just ripping your stockings off and sliding your down onto his aching dick. There would be plenty of time for that later, but in that moment, he wanted to make you felt just how appreciated you were.

“Come on, little sparrow, I know you’re close. I can feel you soaking my pants leg.”

The desperation and desire in his voice drove your lust even higher. That, combined with the friction of your nylon stockings against your bare pussy, had you teetering on the edge of release.

“Please, sir!” You didn’t know what you were asking for, but he seemed to. And he was going to make you beg for it.

“Please what?”

“I...I want you to fuck me, sir! Please let me cum on your dick,” you pleaded with a breathless whine, never ceasing your wanton grinding.

“Oh, you will be cumming on my dick. But, first, you’re going to make yourself nice and sloppy for me.”

Enji gripped your hair tighter and pulled your head back until your spine arched. Now, your nails were digging into the skin of his pectorals, but he didn’t care because the end result was you humping against him with reckless abandon. No longer needing to guide your movements, he reached up and wrapped his other hand around your delicate throat, squeezing just enough to make the blood rush to your head. That was just enough to tip you right over the edge.

“Oh, oh!” Your hips began to stutter slightly in their movements as your orgasm crept up on you. A scream that surprised you, but made Enji growl in triumph, was ripped from your throat as you bucked wildly through the peak of your release. Letting go of your tresses and throat, Enji pulled you gently into his chest and ran his hands soothingly down your back. As your body trembled and quaked through the vestiges of your orgasm, he murmured soft praises into the crown of your hair.

“You did such a good job for me, baby girl. I’m so proud of you and all your hard work. Are you ready for your reward now?”

Despite the fact that you had just cum your brains out, his words of praise had you moaning wantonly, your head bobbing lazily in consent. Enji wasted no time in standing you up between his legs, supporting your weight effortlessly as he slid his hands up your inner thighs towards the crotch of your stockings. A brief, but loud ripping sound echoed in the spacious office, and then you felt a cool breeze against your soaked lips. Enji took a moment to run a thick finger through your dainty folds, making you shudder and moan.

Enji considered having you ride him again, but a glance at the large sectional he had in the corner of the room gave him other ideas. Picking you up as if you weighed nothing, he carried you to the luxurious piece of furniture and laid you down on your back. He immediately covered your body with his own and locked his lips with yours, the kiss quickly turning heated. While your lips moved together with unrestrained passion, he busied himself with undoing his belt and slacks. Once he got them undone, he freed his aching length from the confines of his underwear, hissing at the sensation of the cool air hitting the too hot skin.

Pulling away from your soft warmth, Enji made you look him in the eye before he asked, “It seems a bit late to ask, but are you sure this is what you want?”

Thinking he was just being considerate, you smiled softly up at him and nodded in affirmation. He kissed you hard, one more time, before looking down to guide his more than impressive dick to your dripping entrance. As soon as he pressed the head in, you knew what he was really asking you before, which was whether you could handle being stretched to your absolute limit.

You threw your head back, pressing into the soft cushion underneath you, and struggled to breathe around the sensation of his girth splitting you open. It was a good thing he made sure you were wet enough beforehand, otherwise, you were sure that you wouldn’t have been able to take all of him.

Enji made sure to take his time pressing in and withdrawing, inch by inch, enraptured by the sight of your pretty pussy stretching around him. It was a couple minutes more before he was fully seated inside you, the head of his dick pressed snugly against your cervix. He paused his movements to press sweet, but rough kisses along your jaw and collarbones. You reached up and buried your fingers in his hair, applying the barest pressure to bring his face closer to yours so you could press your foreheads together.

“I’d really like for you to move now,” you panted softly. Sure, it was quite the stretch having him inside you, but it didn’t hurt and you were still filled with a burning desire to be wrecked by the giant hovering over you.

Withdrawing slowly, so slowly, Enji paused again to watch your face as he gave a quick, experimental thrust. The cry of pleasure you let out snapped his resolve to continue taking it slow, and he began to fuck into you with a vigor. All you could do is tighten your grip on his red locks and hold on for the ride.

“God, you feel so good wrapped around me. Do you have any idea how long I have wanted this? How many times I’ve fantasized about fucking into you like this, making you my little cumdump?”

Enji was actually caught off guard with how visceral your reaction was to his dirty talk. He didn’t think it possible, but you became even tighter around his dick, nails biting into his scalp, as well. You began trying to thrust back up against him, but he was having none of that. Enji pulled back just enough to take your legs and throw them over his shoulders so he could put you in a mating press.

“Oh gods, yes, just like this, Daddy!” you wailed loudly, tears gathering in the corners of your eyes. You were overwhelmed with the pleasure from his rigid member rubbing against your velvet walls with the new angle.

A groan that sounded like a snarl rumbled in Enji’s chest at the sound of your fucked out voice calling him ‘Daddy’. It made him want to grind his dick deeper into you, until all you could see, feel, or taste was him and the pleasure he was giving to you.

“Fuck, if you call me that again, I’m going to fucking cum and I’m not going to pull out.” He expected you to object, or something but instead, you attempted to pull him in closer with the strength of your legs alone.

“Please, please, please fill me up, Daddy! I want it all, please, give it to me!”

Pace quickening at your filthy words, Enji leaned forward until you were practically pressed in half and his thrusts had the tip of his dick bumping your womb with every plunge deeper. You were unable to even scream, the air knocked from your lungs and your brain foggy with thought-warping ecstasy.

“Goddammit, you’re gonna make me cum, baby. I’m gonna fill you up to the brim. Gonna make you round with my child. Is that what you want?”

All you could do was nod frantically, incoherent pleas and his name spilling from your drooling mouth in an endless stream. You would do anything, say anything, just to feel his hot cum paint your walls.

From the way you were clenching and pulsing around him, Enji knew that you were close to the precipice again already, and he was ready to tumble over right along with you. Letting go of the last bit of restraint holding him back, Enji captured your lips in a searing kiss and swallowed your cries of passion as he began to piston into your tight heat, chasing his orgasm and hurtling you towards yours.

A shrill scream muffled by his lips and the sharp tightening of your walls around him signaled to Enji that you were cumming, and he quickly followed after you. His powerful hips stuttered once, twice before he drove his entire length fully inside you and stilled, his head pressed to the opening of your womb. Much hotter than you were expecting it to be, spurts of cum that seemed endless gushed deep inside you, prolonging both of your orgasms to the point of over-sensitivity.

When you both finally came down and got your breathing under control, Enji slowly pulled out from you and gently eased your legs off his shoulders. He gathered you up in an embrace and flipped the two of you over so that you were laid on top of him, head resting against his chest. Again, he stroked your back and sides soothingly, murmuring words of praise and comfort.

For your part, you were fucking wiped, your heart still racing and brown skin dewed with sweat. You could feel cum leaking out of your abused hole, but could hardly be bothered to care with exhaustion and satiation weighing so heavily on your eyes.

With strong arms wrapped around you and every bone in your body feeling like marshmallow, you snuggled closer to Enji and fell asleep to the steady pulse of his heart in your ear.

#todoroki enji x reader #endeavor x reader #bnha smut #endeavor smut #todoroki enji smut #black reader

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wonjaekook · 4 years

Text

One Minus One Plus One

Pairing: college student!Mark x college student!reader

Description: In all of the years you’ve known Jungwoo, you should have figured out to not take his words at face value because, though you haven’t even met, Mark Lee seems to hate your guts.

Word Count: 9.9k

Genre: kind-of-enemies to lovers! fluff? angst? humor? I honestly don’t know how to categorize this

Warnings: vaguely suggestive ending, some minor swearing

A/N: This is my (late) holiday gift for a friend and to you all, I suppose. It’s an enemies-to-lovers but not really, as they’re not really enemies and it’s more passive-aggressive!Mark and very confused!Y/N. To the intended - I love and appreciate you so much; thank you for always supporting me and listening to me ramble about even the most ridiculous ideas <3 If you ever need anything, I hope you know that you can always shoot me a text or DM! Please enjoy c:

Mark Lee is always sweet. It’s the kind of sweetness that’s warm and fulfilling, leaving a pleasant feeling in the pit of the stomach, like a steaming up of hot chocolate rather than a strikingly sweet popsicle. His nature isn’t something he particularly prides himself on, as it’s partially unintentional, driven by awkwardness and politeness at times, or by the compulsion to simply make people happy. Jungwoo has told him that he’s allowed to be a little more selfish once in a while, he’s allowed to say no and take breaks sometimes. Except, he’s ever the people pleaser, ever the hard worker, ever the yes-man. Mark Lee is always sweet.

Except when he isn’t.

You’re fairly certain that Mark Lee has hated you since before you even met him. When you decide to transfer to the same university that your high school best friend Jungwoo attends, he talks your ear off about all of his great friends and all of the places he is going to take you and all of the fun you’ll have. He’s always been the descriptive type, telling you far too much about his good pals Mark, Donghyuck, Johnny, Taeil, Jaehyun, Kun, Lucas… and countless others, whose names you sometimes have a hard time keeping track of. Jungwoo has a lot of friends, something which has remained true since high school. Whenever you catch up with him, he speaks particularly fondly about Mark, who is one of his roommates and someone he considers to be one of his closest friends.

“You’ll love him,” he says, “but not too much, I hope. That would be super weird, you and Mark.” He wrinkles his nose at that and doesn’t make any more abnormal comments. You don’t think much of it.

In short, you let Jungwoo decide your opinion on Mark Lee before you ever met him. With everything else about moving to a completely different university occupying the majority of your thoughts, it’s easy enough to accept that Mark will be awkward and painfully sweet and that you will become fast friends. That’s your first mistake.

Before you even finish moving in, Jungwoo drags you over to his place to meet some of his friends, who he insists will become your own. It’s just past noon and he claims that everyone will be awake and ready to greet you once you get there. He’s half right, in the sense that only half of the apartment is awake. The early-risers, who Jungwoo didn’t even have to shake before he came over to get you, are at the table in their common area, sipping on various caffeinated beverages. These consist of Mark and Jaehyun. Donghyuck is presumably still curled up in his bed, asleep after a late night of playing games, and Johnny, who had stayed overnight and doesn’t actually live with them, is passed out on their couch, an arm slung over his face to block the light. Your friend has shown you enough pictures for you to recognize them.

Jungwoo practically deflates as soon as he walks in to see only two members of the current household conscious. “This is why we can’t have nice things,” he grumbles before striding over to Johnny and yanking off the blanket covering his long torso.

The elder groans, clearly having only been dozing and not deeply asleep, and moves his arm so he can glare at Jungwoo. “Your disrespect for my sleep schedule is why we can’t have nice things.”

“You don’t have a sleep schedule,” Jungwoo says back, glaring at his friend with the blanket in his hand. “Plus, Y/N’s here.”

Johnny lazily looks over and sees you in the entranceway, to which his response is to roll slightly so that he’s propped up against the back of the couch with one leg crossed over the other rather than just lying down. “Sup. Name’s Johnny.”

“Ew, don’t use your flirting voice!” Jungwoo whines at his friend, kicking him in the shin. In all honesty, you’re both amused and slightly flattered that Johnny is attempting to flirt with you when he’s just woken up. The messy hair is kind of a look. “Y/N’s a friend.”

“Yeah, we’ll be good friends, alright,” Johnny says, looking directly at you and wiggling his eyebrows in the most ridiculous way. That gets a giggle out of you while Jungwoo gawks, kicking Johnny again for good measure, slightly harder this time.

Jungwoo looks like he’s about to start arguing again when Jaehyun kindly interrupts, shifting the conversation. He gives you a small smile, perfectly polite and handsome, his hair straight and soft over his forehead. “It’s nice to meet you, Y/N. I’m Jaehyun.”

You lower your head to acknowledge him. “It’s nice to meet you, too.” You look towards the other boy at the table, who you now realize hasn’t glanced up at you once. Jaehyun had been at least half watching the mock fight between Jungwoo and Johnny, but Mark had just been staring at his cup from behind circular glasses, not even drinking it. His own hair is slightly damp, curling at the ends, making him appear somewhat young. “You’re Mark, right?”

Finally, he looks at you, but looks away quickly. “Yeah.”

That’s… that’s not right.

You try again, smiling as brightly as you can, even though he won’t glance in your direction again. His side profile is full of both soft shapes and hard angles, afternoon sunlight coming in through the window falls as highlights on his cheeks and nose and chin. He appears exactly as your friend had described him to you, but his attitude proves him to be a walking contradiction. You shift on your feet, grasping for the right words to say. “Jungwoo has told me a lot about you.”

“Uh… yeah. He’s told me about you, too.”

You almost outright frown at that. Isn’t he supposed to be super nice and friendly? Instead, it sounds like Jungwoo has been spreading all sorts of nasty stories about you. Hypothetical stories that, apparently, only Mark has been listening to. Neither Jaehyun nor Johnny are acting strangely towards you at all.

All three of the other boys do seem to notice the change in behavior for Mark, though. There are a few moments of tense silence before Johnny elbows Jungwoo. The latter speaks up. “Hey, Mark, can you go resurrect Donghyuck? I think he might be dead.”

The switch is instant and very startling to you. His face loses all of its tension as he looks at Jungwoo, nodding. “Yeah, sure. If I don’t come back in ten minutes, I’m the one who’s dead.” He pushes himself up out of his chair and exits the common area.

After he’s gone, you look at Jungwoo. He stares back. You make a motion with your head towards the front door, where you retreat to and he follows. You stand somewhat stiffly, hands linked behind your back. “Did you say something to him? About me?”

Jungwoo puts his hands up defensively. “Nothing bad, I swear!” He looks back towards the common area. “He must just be having a bad day or something…”

That doesn’t explain the sudden warmth when someone else spoke to him, though. You frown. “Okay… I guess I’ll just have to try harder to get him to like me.”

Your friend seems to perk up at that. “That’s the spirit!” He proceeds to grab you by the shoulders and steer you back to the common area.

You have an amiable enough time chatting with the boys who had remained there. Eventually, Donghyuck emerges from his room, looking even more ruffled than Johnny had, and Mark shuffles out with him. Once again, he doesn’t even spare you a glance. Every so often, as you’re talking to the others or just listening to their strange, all-over-the-place conversations, your eyes flicker over to him. He contributes to the chatter, but it’s like he’s purposefully avoiding you, even though you’re literally in the room with him. It kind of hurts.

Still, you try not to let it bother you too much. An hour passes, which you realize with a start, and you remember that you’re not even nearly done unpacking. As you’re rising from your seat on the edge of the couch, Jungwoo throws a comment out to you. “You’re welcome to bust in here any time!”

He’s met with a chorus of agreement from the others, except one.

The next day, Jungwoo makes a point to introduce you to the rest of his circle. Not long after, you’re added to a group chat with a whole phonebook of unfamiliar numbers. Most of them, minus several who your friend had told you in the past do a poor job of checking their messages, send their names pretty quickly. Jungwoo tells you who the others are. With a pang of disappointment, you realize one of the missing numbers was Mark.

On your first day of classes, you’re pleasantly surprised to find that you share an economics lecture with Donghyuck, who acts both very tired and also full of energy, chatting your ear off before and after class, but looking as if he’s about to pass out when the professor gives her introduction and starts to go over course material. That day, you also learn that you have an ethics class with Jungwoo’s friend Doyoung, stoic and serious and exactly the opposite of Donghyuck, but still smiling at your lame jokes and carefully making sure you get the homework down.

The second day starts out much more slowly. You settle down for your third class, a curriculum development course, and it takes you about a solid minute to realize that Mark Lee is sitting in the room with you. He had come in while you were busily typing out a text to a friend from your previous university. The classroom is not particularly large and you had taken a seat near the middle, so there aren’t many places for him to hide. When he walks in, he takes a seat by the wall closest to the windows. You consider greeting him, walking to his desk to try and talk to see if he had a change of attitude from the last time you saw him, but then your professor enters the scene. As he passes by the far side of the room, Mark looks up from his own phone and smiles, mouth instantly opening to greet him. You stay in your seat and try to look busy as you listen to them chat amiably. Mark laughs in disbelief at something your professor says about his vacation.

At the end of the lecture, you pack up your things quickly and make the effort to take a few small, light steps to catch up to Mark, who’s already leaving. “Hi, Mark! I didn’t realize we had a class together.”

He gives you a sort of half-shrug, keeping his head pointed straight ahead. Almost imperceptibly, his pace increases. “I guess we do.”

He opens a door to a stairwell, not making any particular effort to hold the door for you. Reflexively, you grab the door and slip through after him. You try again as the two of you head down. “Are you going to be home tonight? Jungwoo invited me to have dinner with you guys.”

“No,” he says, voice edged with irritation. He reaches into his pocket, fishing out his phone and a pair of earbuds. “I’ll be out.”

“Oh.” You slow down slightly. “Well, we should hang out sometime. My next class is this way, so… see you.” By the time you’re done talking, he’s slipped both earbuds into his ears and is pushing the doors at the bottom of the stairs open. You hold back a heavy sigh and shrug your backpack higher onto your shoulders.

As he told you, he’s not in his apartment that evening. Though Jungwoo had invited you to help cook dinner, he shirks his responsibilities, slipping away to play games with Donghyuck and leaving you and Jaehyun to cook, with relatively unhelpful commentary from Johnny, who was once again on the couch when you arrived. At some point, their friend Yuta slips in, steals some noodles, and leaves.

After the cooking is done, you and Jaehyun celebrate with a firm high-five, and Jungwoo and Donghyuck un-disappear, coming out of the younger boy’s dark bedroom. The lot of you are halfway through eating when Donghyuck perks up. “Wait, where’s Mark? He said he would do calc homework with me.”

You bite the inside of your cheek and hold back from saying that he told you he wouldn’t be home.

Thankfully, most of Jungwoo’s friends are nice to you and it’s easy enough for you to make friends of your own. You ease yourself into a routine of classes, homework, and hanging out with your new social circles. Mark doesn’t hide that he tries to avoid you about half of the time. At the same time, you try to split yourself between friend groups, as to not force him either to be around you or to not hang out with his own friends. There are the occasional large scale events that both of you are invited to, but there are enough people that you usually aren’t forced to interact. After a month of classes, you stop trying to start conversations, but you still greet him. He greets you back with the indifference of an overworked, tired stranger. During your class, he firmly ignores you. He does more than ignore you - he speaks to virtually every other person in your class except you. All of your friends carefully avoid the topic of his blatant dislike for you, though you know they all think it’s odd.

Finally, one of those large events comes to pass via the boy known as Zhong Chenle. He doesn’t go to your school, but is still somehow acquainted with all of Jungwoo’s friends, so he became acquainted with you as well. He’s eccentric and sarcastic and sometimes you see him playing basketball with Mark and Jaehyun in the school recreation center. So, when he rents out the local ice skating rink and invites you, you’re excited to go. It’s not often that you get onto the ice - it’s always a thrill after you re-learn how to skate, and you enjoy the feeling of the smooth gliding and wide, curving turns on the blades. You imagine that you’re painting with your feet.

Things go down smoothly, like you envisioned. After just twenty minutes, you’ve confidently found your ice legs and you’re racing around the rink with Donghyuck, playfully tipping each other off-balance with carefully or sometimes not-so-carefully timed pushes. A few minutes later, a new player enters the arena. Maybe if this new person weren’t Mark Lee, you wouldn’t have noticed their entrance, but your eyes are instinctively drawn to him.

The boy in question is clinging to one Lee Jeno, another friend of Jungwoo and Donghyuck and all the rest of them, as they both try to find their balance. Jeno seems to be having somewhat of an easier time with the skates on his feet, making slow pushes so that he glides short distances with Mark holding onto him. Mark is adorably flushed, in a way you haven’t seen before, his cheeks aflame with cold and embarrassment. His body is swallowed by an overly large hoodie, completing the cozy and cute look.

Your racing buddy has also slowed down to watch with you, staring at the scene. He suddenly nudges you with an elbow. “You should help him.”

“Jeno? I think he’s gotten the hang of it. Plus, I don’t know him that well.” It’s now a game of who can dodge implications rather than who can dodge physical pushes.

Donghyuck rolls his eyes, skating lazily alongside you. “You know I’m talking about Mark. This would be a great opportunity to get on his good side.”

“Why don’t you help him? He’s your boyfriend, after all.” If you weren’t focusing on turning your skates and keeping your balance because you’ve reached the short end of the rink, you would cross your arms and huff at him more dramatically.

He clicks his tongue sharply, something you know by now that he does when he’s irritated. “Mark isn’t my boyfriend. Doyoung and Taeyong are boyfriends. Mark and I are soulmates. And he’s still painfully single.”

“So are you!” As you protest, you realize that Mark and Jeno are getting closer. Donghyuck fires something back indignantly, but you’re just thinking about what he said before. The offer to help lies in front of you as a real possibility, but how would you feel if someone you hated came up and asked if you wanted help skating? If you really hated them that much, you would just think they were being condescending. The last thing you want to do is give Mark a reason to think you’re acting that way towards him. So, as you skate closer, you pick up your pace and speed on by, not even glancing at the two boys with their arms interlinked. Luckily for you, Jungwoo is just ahead, so you hook arms with him and jerk him forward with your momentum, making him yell out in surprise.

As you’re gliding along, laughing at your friend’s reaction and attempts to push you, Mark stares at you from behind with a small frown on his face.

“Mark?” Jeno’s voice snaps him out of it and he looks towards the younger boy. “Do you need me to slow down?”

“No,” he says rather grimly, “let’s go faster.”

You don’t speak to each other at all for the entire night.

The next month and a half passes unremarkably. Then, suddenly, midterms are rolling up and you find yourself swamped with work, especially in the class you share with Mark and your new friend Yuqi. At the current moment, you’re at your place with your head buried in your arms, groaning dramatically. “I can’t do this.”

Yuqi nods, looking somewhat dead inside. “Professor Lim hates us.”

“I don’t know what chapters we even covered half of the material in. Did he just make it up?” You lift your hand to paw through the textbook in front of you lazily, so much of it seeming foreign. “It doesn’t help that the Instructional Systems Design Model is such a big part of the project.”

“Maybe that’s in Chapter 1?”

You flip through her suggestion before slamming your book shut. “Nope.”

“I know!” You perk up at your friend’s revelation, looking at her from across the table. “We can just ask Mark! He’s good at this class, he probably knows.”

You stiffen at her suggestion. There was only one time you dared to ask him for help, in which he just brushed you off and said he was busy. Since then, you’ve resigned yourself to only asking Yuqi for help, no matter how clueless she is in this class sometimes. A brief moment of panic sends your heart racing as she whips out her cellphone. “Don’t mention me.”

She turns to look at you, finger poised to press call over her phone. “What?”

You put your head back down, muffling your words. “Don’t say my name when you talk to him.” She gives you a weird look, but shrugs, pressing the call button. “Wait! And put it on speaker so I can hear the answer. Please.”

Wordlessly, she rolls her eyes, but pulls the phone away from her face, setting it on the table in front of her. The call connects after two rings and you hear Mark’s voice with the staticky phone call filter over it. “Hello?”

“Hey, Mark! It’s Yuqi.”

“Oh, hi, what’s up?” He seems to brighten up, showing a pleasantness that you rarely hear from him these days.

“I just had a question about our curriculum development class. Do you know what chapter goes over the Instructional Systems Design Model? I can’t find it.”

“Oh, sure. Hold on, let me grab my notes.” From the other end, you can hear the distorted shuffling of clothes and paper for a moment. “It’s Chapter 4, I think. We didn’t really go over that chapter in class, but Prof. Lim told me when I went to his office hours.”

“Oh my god, thank you so much, Mark! You’re a literal life saver,” Yuqi gushes, about to practically kiss the phone in joy.

You press your hands together in front of you in a silent thank you. Mark laughs lightly into the phone. “No problem! If you ever need anything, let me know. I’m always happy to help.”

“Thank you, thank you, thank you! Bye, Mark!” After receiving a goodbye from him, Yuqi presses the hang up button. She claps her hands twice in excitement. “That makes things so much easier!”

You’re stuck thinking about what Mark said before hanging up. It’s exactly in line with how Jungwoo used to talk about him - polite, helpful, friendly. An ugly part of you has to wonder what you did wrong once again. What part of you is undeserving of his kindness? An even uglier part feels the green flash of envy. “How do you have Mark’s number?”

“We had a class together like a year ago and he’s a pretty cool guy. Also useful to have around.” The image of them studying together, chatting like close friends, heads bent closely over shared notes, makes the parasite of jealousy dig deeper in your belly. The logical side of your brain knows you shouldn’t be feeling like this, but the two sides of Mark Lee make you want to throw an uncharacteristic fit. She tosses her phone to the side before flipping open her textbook to Chapter 4. “Why?”

“Were you guys ever… like…” You bite the inside of your cheek, not wanting to say it out loud.

“Me? Mark? No, we just worked on a project together. I have no idea what gave you that idea.” She wrinkles her nose at you.

“You just talk to each other so casually,” you huff, trying to expel the negativity from your system, “I don’t know.”

“He’s like that with everyone,” she says easily, leaning back in her chair. “Except you, I guess.”

“Except me. I guess.” You parrot, not feeling any better about the situation. When you proceed to ask her if you did anything weird on your first day of class that would have put him off, she denies it, telling you that you were completely normal. Resigned to forget the mystery for the night, you open up your textbook.

Midterms pass with relative success. At least, with more success than you had at your old university. You’re excited for a break, a reprieve from the pain of studying. Johnny arranges a potluck and movie night at his place, assigning everyone a dish and putting you on dessert.

In your class with Doyoung, who is often assigned as the chef of the group, you pressure him for everyone’s favorites. “Something fruity? Chocolatey?”

“We’re split there. There’s not much you can do that would appease everyone, honestly. Some of them are the pickiest guys I’ve ever met.” He continues to scribble notes as you grill him for info, not even looking up.

“What if I did something different? Like matcha cookies?” You tap your chin in thought and Doyoung lifts a hand to point at you after the suggestion leaves your mouth.

“Yes, do that one. Basically everyone likes green tea.”

“Basically everyone?”

“Not Mark.” Doyoung shakes his head disapprovingly. “He’s not arriving until after we eat, though, so I’m sure it’s fine.”

You’re not sure what to say to that. That night, you work hard making your matcha cookies, setting aside a bit of time for a side project. When you arrive at Johnny’s apartment with two dishes, one quite a bit smaller than the others and labeled with Mark’s name, safely hidden in the pantry until everyone has stepped out of the kitchen area and you can put it somewhere you hope he’ll see it. You can only hope that he at least appreciates your effort. When he arrives a bit later into the night, non-gifting you his usual non-existent glance, you can’t help but impatiently squirm a bit. Before you leave, you make a pass by the kitchen and, disappointingly, but not surprisingly, the container is in the same place as you left it, your note still affixed to the top.

The mystery continues, however, when you approach Johnny a few days later to ask about retrieving your containers.

“There was more than one? I only have that big rectangular one that you brought the matcha cookies in. They were really good, by the way - I can only wish the cookies I make turned out like that…” He scratches his head and you feel like the gesture perfectly represents how you’re feeling as well. If he doesn't have the box… who does?

A small part of you holds onto the hope that the intended person retrieved them after you weren’t looking.

The class you share with Mark is not nearly the most interesting one you have, nor is it one that is particularly memorable most of the time. There’s something so terribly tedious about it that makes you suffer a disproportionate amount whenever you do a chapter of the reading, though you think that you’re usually quite good about your work. Still, though you’re not exactly the most studious of your classmates, you can’t stand resounding silences in the classroom. So, when your professor asks a question and no one volunteers, you try to at least say something somewhat intelligent. Today is one of those days. Except, as you speak, you realize with dawning dread that your words aren’t making any sense of all, are barely related to the question, and are progressively spiraling into completely different subject matter. Still, you find it hard to stop, eventually coming to a stuttering stop with your answer. Even Professor Lim can’t hold back something of a put-off expression. You sink lower into your seat and, as your professor says something along the lines of your comments being “not quite relevant,” your cheeks burn.

You spare a glance to the side, looking for some sort of pity or reassurance from Yuqi, but you end up looking past her at Mark. You half expect him to smirking at your failure, like a villain in a high school drama, but, instead, his eyes meet yours. He offers you the barest twitch of an encouraging smile before looking away, his face neutral again. You’re almost unsure about how to interpret the look - it’s the closest thing to a positive emotion he’s ever shown you. Confused, you fix your eyes on your open notebook and keep them there, scratching random notes and doodles into the margins for the remainder of the lecture.

When you think about Mark Lee, you feel like you’re going insane. It would honestly be pretty easy for you to make one of those crazy conspiracy theorist maps with the red strings and thumbtacks attempting to connect a bunch of pictures with all the strange, fragmented experiences you’ve had with the boy. At one position, you could put all the information you supposedly knew about him before even meeting him, all of the things Jungwoo told you, all the smiling pictures from before you arrived. Somewhere else, you could put all of the times Mark has brushed you off or outright refused to acknowledge your existence. In a third location, you could put all the things you’ve actively seen or heard him do that align with the person you thought he was. Finally, you could put the most recent developments of him subtly starting to not ignore you together. The whole diagram would be circled with giant question marks all over it and one question written in capital letters: WHY?

You’re trying to do your damn curriculum development homework and all you can think about is Mark Lee and the first smile he ever gave you. And, from the way your heart is beating, pushing heat into your face and ears, making you wistful and longing to see his smile again, you think you know the direction your feelings have headed.

The next few times you head over to Jungwoo’s place, it’s hit or miss as to whether Mark appears to be actively avoiding you. Finally, one day, you’re pressed shoulder to shoulder with Jungwoo, your eyes fixed on the small screen of your phone as you show him a funny video you found. You don’t notice Mark until he opens his bedroom door loudly enough that you look up and you meet his cold gaze. He’s in casual clothes, a hoodie and jeans, with earbuds hanging from his ears, his hair slightly tousled from the wind outside. The eye contact lasts for only a moment before his door acts as a barrier to your vision. You blink hard.

“Just when I thought we were getting somewhere…” You sulk, speaking lowly as to not be overheard by him.

“You and Mark?” Jungwoo asks, not even looking up. The video ends and your friend puts down your phone, folds his hands in front of him, and turns to look at you. “Did you ever figure it out?”

“Did I? How could I figure it out when he won’t even talk to me? Did you?” You lean away from him, crossing your arms. “Should we even be having this conversation over here? He’s just in his room.”

Jungwoo shrugs. “He has his headphones in, he can’t hear anything. To answer your question,” he pauses, leaning in closer to whisper like he’s telling you a secret, “I have no idea.”

“You must have some ideas at least?”

“I have many ideas, many theories, and quite a few formulas. Most of which don’t particularly apply to this situation.” You grumble something under your breath about engineering majors as he continues. “For Mark? He might be letting all the negativity he’s ever felt out on you, honestly. Maybe because you’re the same major?”

You sit up slightly straighter. “We’re the same major?”

“Yeah?” Jungwoo replies, giving you a look. “He’s trying to be music education instead of history education, though.”

“I never knew the specifics,” you mumble, letting your posture fall back into a slouch. In reality, it’s more than just not knowing the specifics - there’s very little you’ve managed to learn about Mark that you haven’t actively had to pry out of your shared friends. You know about some of the foods he likes, some of his hobbies, and a bit of general information. It’s awfully hard to get to know someone when they refuse to acknowledge you.

That notion makes your developing crush feel even stupider.

You attempt to turn the subject back to where it began. “Why me, though? Why not literally anyone else?”

“You’re a pretty cool person and you’re good at a lot of things. Mark’s developing an inferiority complex?” Jungwoo taps his chin as though he’s pretending to be some great thinker.

“I’m not going to lower myself to help some man’s ego,” you huff, your nails digging into your palms as you make tight fists. “Plus, there’s nothing I’m particularly good at that he’s not also good at, if not better.”

“It’s not really about ego, I think…” Jungwoo says, trailing off. “I dunno. He’s not like that with anyone but you.”

“No one but me, huh.” Honestly, you’re kind of getting sick of that expression. This isn’t the kind of exceptional you want to be to him. Not at all. You’re honestly not sure when it stopped being a simple need to be on pleasant terms with Jungwoo’s friends and started to get romantic. Your lips press into a thin line for a moment before you exhale sharply from your nose. “Everything is a big ‘I don’t know’ and I hate it. If it’s not an ‘I don’t know,’ it’s still stuck in the ‘why?’ stage.” You lay your head down and you have to resist the urge to scream into your arms. “I’m going to lose my mind.”

“You really make no sense at all.”

“It really makes no sense that I-” You bite your tongue to stop yourself to stop yourself from admitting out loud to the feelings you’ve just recently realized. Jungwoo just gives you a sly, knowing smile that you don’t like the look of one bit.

Before you know it, finals are around the corner and, with it, one of the last organized events you’ll have with your friends until testing is over. This time, it’s a group dinner where people can come and go as they please, and a few of you have taken it upon yourselves to do all the cooking. Namely, you, Doyoung, Jaehyun, Kun, and, surprisingly, Donghyuck. Suffice to say, the kitchen is not enough space for all of you. Still, you manage to pull it off, completing a hearty Korean-style dinner that slowly disappears from their dishes as all of the others eat. By the end, you’re worn out from the sweltering heat of the stove, the occasional bickering with the other chefs (‘Donghyuck, stop eating all the radish!’), and chatting with nearly every single one of your friends. Names and faces scroll through your head and you’re honestly not sure who you’ve seen and not seen by the end of it. Except for one person.

Mark Lee is, once again, nowhere to be found.

You make sure to smack away hands going for seconds in order to wrap up a moderately sized portion of food for him anyways. When all of the food, save for what you’ve set aside for Mark, is gone, Taeyong offers himself and some of the others up to clean, which you and the rest of the cooking boys eagerly accept. Most of them have headed out by now, but the few remaining begrudgingly agree to the job at Taeyong’s call.

You lean against the wall idly, watching the work being done and listening to the rhythmic sound of the water running and the sponge scraping against metal. Finally, Jungwoo happens upon the wrapped plate you had prepared for your missing guest.

“Who’s this for?” He asks to the room, almost salivating at the sight of the food. Damn, that boy can eat.

“It’s for Mark. You can give it to him when he gets back.” Your words are half informative, half threatening. Jungwoo takes the hint and carefully replaces the foil covering the food.

It takes another minute for him to look back over at you, seeing you looking bleary-eyed, close to swaying onto the floor from fatigue. He steps over, patting you on the head. “Y/N, you can go rest on the couch if you want. You look like you’re about to pass out.”

“I might just do that,” you respond, not clarifying which part of his sentence you’re talking about. At his behest, you shuffle over to the couch. It only takes a moment for your eyes to flutter closed. The music of washing dishes lulls you quickly to sleep.

You’re not sure how long has passed by the time you stir to the sound of the front door closing. You recognize that water is no longer running and that there are only two voices left in the kitchen area. Lying there for a moment, unsure of if you should make your presence known yet, you determine that the voices belong to Jungwoo and Mark.

“Oh, Y/N made sure to grab this for you,” you hear Jungwoo say, followed by the faint crinkling of the foil covering the plate.

“She did?” Mark’s voice is surprisingly soft, warm, everything you’re not used to from him.

The voices drift closer towards you, accompanying the slip of socks against the wood floor. “Don’t act surprised. Also, she’s on the couch sleeping right now. I’ll probably wake her up in a minute so she can go home.”

“Oh.” You’re listening as hard as you can, trying to determine whatever Mark is feeling just by his tone. “Is she okay?”

Your heart beats faster and you want to squirm, ask questions, anything. You remain still.

“Just tired.” A beat of silence. “Why are you looking at her like that?”

“Dude, I just…” Mark has some sort of lightness to his voice that you’ve never heard. “Nothing.”

“Do you think I can’t tell? Come on, I’ve known you long enough.” Jungwoo would normally be teasing saying something like that, but right now you just hear a kind of weariness that you’re entirely familiar with.

“Not as long you’ve known her.” The sentence comes out bitter, the first negativity you’ve heard from Mark all night, and Jungwoo sighs in response.

“Do what you need to do and then I’ll wake her up.”

They walk farther away. The telltale sound of the microwave opening and shutting after the foil crinkles again, followed by the beeping of the buttons and the hum of the machine, tells you that someone is heating up the food. Under the microwave ambiance, you hear what you think is plastic against plastic. The machine is stopped before it can beep shrilly. The smell of warm, reheated food fills the air briefly. There’s shuffling as Mark presumably walks.

“Night.” Jungwoo echoes Mark’s sentiment and you hear more shuffling towards you. A touch on your shoulder. You keep your eyes closed, trying to control your breathing for a moment longer. Your friend shakes you slightly. “Y/N, wake up.”

You try your best to play up your awakening act, like you hadn’t been listening to the entirety of the last conversation. Rubbing your eyes and blinking, you look up at Jungwoo. “What time is it?”

“Almost midnight. Everyone went home to sleep and study.” You get up slowly, rolling your shoulders once you’ve sat up. “I can walk you back, if you want.”

“That’s okay, it’s not a long walk.” You get to your feet, padding to the kitchen area. There, on the table, is the plastic container you’d brought Mark’s cookies in weeks ago. “Oh, that’s my container. Did Johnny find it?”

Jungwoo reaches up to ruffle his hair, looking between you and the container. “Mark did, actually.” “Huh.” Shrugging, you pick it up and make your way to the door. “Tell him thanks for me.”

“You could tell him yourself?” Jungwoo offers, looking vaguely hopeful.

You smile, but cringe at the same time. “Yeah… you know.”

He shakes his head, seeming disappointed once more. “Fine. Text me when you get back?”

“Will do.”

As you walk home, your container clutched in your arms, you think about how more pieces are being unveiled, but nothing is really making that much more sense at all.

Finals pass as they always do. You study with Yuqi for your curriculum development class. The situation from midterms repeats itself almost exactly at one point, with her calling Mark for help and you staying quiet as he talks, and the test is no harder than any of the others you had previously in the semester. You force yourself to keep your eyes on your exam and to not glance over at Mark except when you’re walking out of the classroom at the end. All you can see of him is the back of his head, his hair slightly disheveled. Idly, you wonder if you’ll get over your baseless crush if you aren’t able to look at him and mull over the problem during class anymore. You think that’s the last you’ll see of him before you run into him at an event next semester.

On the last day of finals, your group chat receives two messages from Jungwoo.

JW: END OF THE SEMESTER PARTY TOMORROW NIGHT TO CELEBRATE FINALS BEING DONE BEFORE EVERYONE LEAVES. ATTENDANCE IS MANDATORY.

JW: I don’t care if you planned a “date” with your “girlfriend,” I expect to see all of you there :))

A minute later, your phone buzzes again with an individual message from the same boy.

JW: Y/N, my lovely best friend, you’re part of the planning committee and you’re going to help me set up. Be there an hour early xoxo

You know there’s no use fighting it so, the next day, you show up to his place as expected. Jungwoo, Lucas, Yuta, and Johnny are all milling about, trying to seem busy but, honestly, there doesn’t look like there’s much to do. Some of the furniture has been moved to the side, there’s a giant mysterious tub that is partly filled with a reddish liquid that Lucas and Yuta are leaning over, and Johnny is affixing colorful lights to a wall. As soon as your shoes are off, Jungwoo is steering you to the common area.

“Y/N, you’re late!”

“I’m like ten minutes early-” You start.

“No, no, no excuses. I have an important job for you!” It takes you a moment to realize that he’s not leading you to the kitchen, but towards someone’s bedroom. “You like crafts, right?”

“I mean, I guess? I-”

“Great!” He pushes open the bedroom door, Mark’s bedroom door, and pushes you not-so-gently inside. Mark is sitting at his desk, bent over something with a look of surprise on his face. He looks cozy, dressed in a simple red t-shirt and gray sweats with circle glasses perched on his nose. “I want to hang about one hundred paper cranes around the apartment to add a little flare to the party. You can’t leave until you’re done, Mark has the paper, bye!”

He shuts the door behind him.

You and Mark stare at each other in bewilderment as you process whatever just happened. You’re in Mark’s bedroom for the first time. You’re also being actively forced to interact with him one on one for the first time. None of your friends had ever forced you to try and work out your issues until now and you’re certain that Jungwoo’s implication was that you’re not allowed to leave until you’ve talked it through. Some part of you knew he would eventually snap and force you to interact, but you always ignored that possibility. Until now.

“Um,” you start, twisting your fingers together in front of you, “he said you have the paper?”

“Yeah…” he looks back at his desk, grabbing some of the myriad of square sheets and holding them out to you. “Here.”

“Thanks.” You carefully make sure to prevent your fingers from brushing against his as you take them from him. Stepping back, you settle cross-legged on an empty spot on his floor. After you sit, you take a moment to look around. His walls have the occasional band poster plastered on them, there’s a hoodie on the floor across the room, and some of his drawers are partly open, illustrating a pretty typical college boy’s room. A couple of books are pushed to the side on his desk as he works on folding the cranes. Remembering that’s what you’re supposed to be doing, you get to work, making careful creases. Your first crane comes to life on yellow paper slightly lopsided. Good enough, you figure.

You’re in the middle of your second crane when Mark’s chair screeches quietly against the floor and he stands up, gathering his paper. To your great surprise, he sits down a few away from you and mirrors your pose. When you meet eyes with him briefly, you look away as fast as you can, returning to your crane before you can even try and read what he’s feeling. The next three cranes pass quickly with your eyes locked firmly on your work. When you dare to look up again, you find that Mark is intently watching your hands. He startles when you see him. Realizing he’s been caught, he speaks of softly. “Do you… know how to do it?”

Even when he’s the one talking quietly, looking embarrassed, you feel so small. You look down at his own paper pile, which has a few crumpled sheets surrounding it. “I can show you.” He nods and you cautiously scoot closer so that you’re side by side. As gently as you can, you explain each fold and he copies your movements. Soon, you have a relatively even green crane and he has a somewhat lopsided pink crane, very similar to your first.

“Thanks,” he says, staring at his creation, “all of the tutorials I googled weren’t making any sense, but I think I got it now.”

“No problem.” You nod, moving back to your spot across from him. Not wanting the experience to end quite yet, you think about what Jungwoo said last weekend. “Thanks for returning my container.”

He instantly knows what you’re talking about. “Thanks for-”

Before he can say any more, he stops and his expression hardens. He proceeds to look back down at his hands, making slow, purposeful folds in the paper in front of him. You frown, but do the same. A few cranes later, you can’t stop it anymore. After months, months, of him treating you like this, you can’t go one more crane without finding the truth. You throw a half-completed crane to the floor and, though the noise isn’t loud, he looks up. “Mark, what did I do?”

He seems entirely too surprised by the question, which sparks a kind of anger that you didn’t even realize you were holding in. “What?”

“What did I do! What made you act like this to me? Did I do something? Do you just hate my face? What did I do wrong?” You squeeze your knees brutally, trying to resist doing something like tearing up the few pieces of origami you had completed.

“Nothing.” His simple, one word answer only serves to make you more upset. Though he appears initially dismissive, he sees that you’re about to start shouting and quickly continues. “You really didn’t do anything!”

“Then, why? Mark, you’re making me lose my mind!” Now, you feel like you’re on the verge of crying out of frustration. So far, you’ve managed to not cry at all about this stupid boy who has largely chosen to ignore your existence, but you can feel the telltale warming of your cheeks and the pout in your lips.

“It’s not something you did! Not really.” He takes a shaky breath, appearing almost as upset as you, though there are no tears in his eyes. “It’s about Jungwoo. Please, don’t cry.”

The initial confusion helps you swallow your building tears. “If you’re upset at him, why do you have to take it out on me? I really wanted to be friends with you, Mark. I really did.”

“I wanted to be different.” Now, he’s quiet, refusing to look at you for the months of shame he’s feeling rise to the surface.

“From Jungwoo?” You’re not quite following still. You just know that, even though he’s subtly broken your heart and led you in circles over and over for the past few months, you want to know why he’s hurting and you want to stop it. Even if he hasn’t been full of kindness to you, he has been to everyone else. And you know almost for a fact that this isn’t something he’s told anyone else.

“From you.”

Pushing aside papers, crumpled partial cranes, complete cranes, you move closer to him. You’re not sure if you’re overstepping your boundaries and you still kind of feel like one wrong move will make you cry, but the yelling has left your system and your instincts say proximity will help you understand. “Will you explain it to me?”

“There was a you-shaped hole in Jungwoo’s heart ever since he had to go to college and stop spending so much time with you.” Mark’s resignation is quiet, soft-spoken, like the boy you’d heard so much about but only now had gotten to truly meet. “Whenever he came back from breaks, he would talk about you so much and about how similar you and I are and it just made me feel… it made me feel… like… I don’t know. Like I’m just replacing you while you’re not here.”

“Mark…” You’re not sure quite what to say that he hasn’t logically figured out for himself already. Maybe it would help to say the obvious anyways? “You’re not a replacement. You’re you and I’m me and he has different places for both of us.”

He lets out a puff of air. “I know that. It’s just the type of feeling that you can’t really get to go away, even when you try really hard to believe the opposite.”

“I get the feeling.” And you do. It’s like the nagging feeling that you’ve had that you did something unforgivable to upset Mark even though you were almost certain you didn’t.

“I was mean to you because at least that would make me different enough to not be replaced, I guess. It worked because you never stooped to my level to be mean back.” Though he hasn’t quite apologized, he sounds genuinely sorry.

“It worked because you couldn’t have been replaced in the first place,” you say back. You look over and he has a small smile on his face.

“That too. Also-” He stops himself, seeming conflicted. “No, it’s a bad time. A really bad time.”

That piques your curiosity. “Huh?” He’s not smiling anymore, instead looking awkwardly to his side, away from you, and drumming his fingers on the bed. “Mark, you might as well say it. Whatever it is.”

“Okay, after a few months, I realized that you weren’t going to replace me and things were fine. But, you know that thing that kids do?” You’re confused and he’s growing red, practically steaming at the ears in embarrassment, which you can see even in the dim light of the room. “So, I kept being mean because then you kept looking at me even though whenever I thought about what I said to you later, I always felt really bad-” “Mark, you’re rambling. What are you talking about?” You ungracefully interrupt him, touching his arm to get his full attention. He seems to grow even redder at your touch and suddenly exclaims his next words.

“You’re really cute!”

Slowly, his words make more sense. You try to piece them together out loud to make sure you’re understanding him correctly. “So… the thing kids do… where they’re mean to the person they like?”

He moves his head up and down in a tiny nod. Now, your face is heating up, too. Even more than it was when you were on the verge of crying. After a moment, he groans and presses his face into his hands. “Damn, I’m such an idiot. I know this is, like, what middle schoolers do, but since the beginning of the semester I’ve just been so confused, except you’ve probably been way, way more confused than me, and I didn’t even think about it, but all of our friends are probably confused, too, and-” As he jabbers, when your thoughts and feelings had been processing slowly previously, you now feel like your whole reality is crumbling. You spent the last while beating down your feelings when he’s become a pile of mush in front of you about the same problem? At this rate, he’s never going to stop rambling either. Not that you particularly want him to. It’s the most he’s directly said to you ever. And it’s adorable. What else would be adorable? You wonder, teasing him a bit before you tell him the truth. For how long he kept you hanging, you deserve to create at least some tension of your own, you figure. Just for a moment.

“- you’re probably thinking about how dumb this is and I don’t know how you’ll ever forgive me-”

You sit up straight and cross your arms over your chest. “Mark.”

He stops talking and looks at you, more panic seeming to rise in his face at the serious expression you wear. “Oh shit, I never let you talk. Y/N-”

“Mark.” He finally stops, staring at you. “I don’t forgive you.” The panic turns into sheer terror. He clearly hadn’t expected you to put it so forwardly. However, before he can say anything truly depressing, you continue. “I don’t forgive you because you haven’t actually apologized yet.”

His eyes are like tiny suns, round and bright and holding all the feeling in the universe. “I- I thought…” He looks to the side, thinking about everything he had said, and realizes that you’re right. “You’re right. Y/N…” He presses his hands together in front of him. “I’m so sorry.”

It’s probably the most succinct and straightforward he’s ever been with you, but you don’t have much time to think about that before he’s leaning forward in a full bow, pressing his forehead to the ground.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m-”

“Mark, stop!” As soon as you realize what he’s doing, you shuffle forward, putting both hands on his shoulders so you can attempt to yank him back upright. “I was joking, please stop!” He remains upraised, once again looking confused. Slowly, you move backwards about two feet to put some breathing room between you. “You don’t need to do that. I like you, too.”

One slow heartbeat passes. Then a second. You’re not sure how long the thick silence hangs between you, but the tension is so heavy that you don’t even hear any outside noise from the other boys who are supposedly getting ready for a party.

“You… what… wait, no, really?” Mark’s baffled face as he stutters back to you paired with the anxiety of the entire situation makes a laugh bubble out of your chest. He seems to be entirely at a loss. He continues to just stare at you wide-eyed, like he’s witnessing some incredible event instead of just ogling you in the dim light of his bedroom.

“Don’t look at me like that…” You can’t help but reflect some of his flustered behavior, eye contact becoming almost painful. He’s never met your eyes with such enormous positivity and cuteness before and it makes you want to run laps around the building or something. “Mark, I’m serious!”

“How could you like me back? When I was so mean to you? For months?” He begins to twist in place, trying to lean over and look at your head from multiple directions. “Did you fall down the stairs on the way over here and hit your head or something?”

“Mark!” You uncross your legs and shuffle closer on your knees, reaching out to still his movement by grasping his shoulders once again. “Please stop.” When you touch him, he freezes, still moon-eyed. After he stops moving, your hands slide down so that you can hold his. His hands are warm and stiff, just like the rest of his body.

He finally breaks eye contact, looking at where your hands are connected. “I just really don’t get it. There’s no way you like me.”

“You almost sound like you’re upset about it.” You tilt your head, smiling at him softly.

“I am!” He’s insistant, his hands holding onto yours firmly now. Though his grip is tighter, he visibly deflates, his shoulders sinking. “It’s so unfair to you. I was such an ass.”

“But you’re not. One ass-like behavior does not an ass make.” You almost confuse yourself saying it, but you continue. “It’s not about the times you were weird to me. It’s about the times you were nice to everyone else. Like when you helped Yuqi with our class. Or when you helped Donghyuck with his calc even though you aren’t even taking it with him. It sounds kind of dumb, but because of that, I knew you weren’t a bad person. Even if you were trying to be one to me sometimes.” Your thumbs run over his idly, making soothing strokes over his skin as you speak. “Still, you weren’t really all that mean to me, per se. More cold, if anything. Then, when you stopped doing so much of that, it got really confusing. I do have a question, though.”

“I’ll try to answer it, I guess.”

“Did Jungwoo really say we were that similar?”

He blinks. “Maybe once or twice? It just really stuck out to me, for some reason.”

“You’re cute.” He blushes furiously at that. Carefully, you untangle one of your hands from his and bring it up to his cheek, cupping his blazing face. “Do you want to try this? The being together thing?”

“I want to, but-” He presses his lips together, making his cheeks puff out slightly as he thinks. “I don’t know. I feel like I don’t deserve it. I don’t deserve a chance with you.”

Silence sits between you for a moment. Your hand moves back down so you’re holding both of his again. “I know what you can do to make it up to me.”

His eager eyes on your face prompts you to continue. Slowly, a grin threatens to split your face in half.

“I guess you’ll have to kiss me at least once for every time you were mean to me. Maybe more than once.” Your brilliant smile changes form in the air between you and reappears as the stars in his eyes.

“Practice round? Just to make sure I get it right.” The subtle flirtatiousness of the idea that leaves his mouth absolutely appeals to you and you agree. You move as close as you possibly can, your knees pressed together, your breath on his lips and his on yours, his soft bangs grazing your forehead. The touch of his lips against yours is awkward at first, but transforms into something sweeter with a little time. Once you both pull away, it seems you have the same idea when you both go back in for a few quick pecks afterwards. Finally, when you’re content for the moment, he leans forward quickly to press a kiss to your cheek.

You figure that a return to the work of folding cranes will help calm down your rapid heart rate, but every time you steal a glance at Mark, the butterflies return. You know for a fact that he keeps looking at you, too. By the time the noise level outside of the room increases and music is being blasted through the apartment, you’re nowhere near being done with all one hundred cranes, but both of you are sure your mutual friend doesn’t actually care about that. Together, you emerge from his room. You don’t answer any prodding questions from your friends for most of the time you’re mingling, though you’re pretty sure that a good number of them see him sneaking kisses at least once or twice.

Some of them definitely see when you sneak off to his room again before the clock has even turned to midnight. At the same time, you could be damned if you really care.

#neowritingsnet #nct fluff #nct angst #mark lee fluff #mark lee angst #nct 127 fluff #nct 127 angst #nct scenarios #nct imagines #nct 127 scenarios #nct 127 imagines #nct fanfic #nct scenario #wonjaekook #i tried a slightly new sizing for the header :) hopefully it looks better now #there are definitely things I could have done better so let me know what you think!#<<<333

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peachsayshi · 3 years

Text

Chapter 6 - Festival

Gojo Satoru x Female Reader

Tags: Friends with Benefits, Smut, Teasing and a little bit of Fluff.

Summary: Your best friend Rina is curious about what's been keeping you so busy, and the two of you run into Gojo and his student at a food festival.

A/N: I have been working on my jjk fics but this chapter was a little bit difficult for me to write. A little bit of backstory and plot building here. Gojo and personal space? Non-existent. You can't tell me that the man wouldn't abuse his flirting rights.

- - -

“Aren’t you a little warm in that top?”

Rina glanced at the high collared t-shirt you were wearing under your mini dress. The top covered the marks that Gojo left on your neck but the material was a little too thick for the summer heat. Thankfully, there was a breeze cooling you off otherwise you would be dripping with sweat.

“I’m fine,” you replied, directing your attention onto the vendors instead of your best friend’s narrowed eyes.

Rina asked you to come along to check out a food festival set up in the city. The entire district was lined with painted stalls which made for a picture perfect scene. The rich aroma of cooked food danced around you, enticing the bustling crowd that was growing in numbers. From golden battered fried takoyaki balls to mouthwatering barbecued yakitori, rainbow cotton candy that sent strings of sugar into the air and sweet kakigori to cleanse the palette…

Everything was making your stomach grumble.

“Oh, let’s get okonomiyaki!” Rina suggested.

After picking up your orders, you both sat at an empty table where you could enjoy your meal. You were ignoring the way Rina continued looking at you suspiciously, clearly not letting go of her obsession with the top you were wearing.

“Okay, that’s it. Let me see it.”

“See what?” you questioned, covering your mouth as you tried to chew on your food.

“The hickey you are hiding.”

You nearly choked as you swallowed but Rina didn’t flinch at your reaction. You patted your chest lightly, clearing your throat as you gathered your thoughts.

“I’m not hiding anything!” you replied defensively.

Rina rolled her eyes at you, “then at least tell me who the guy is…”

You waved your arm nonchalantly in her direction, desperately trying to avoid getting into a losing battle with your best friend. If there was one person in the world who didn’t need superhuman abilities to tell what you were thinking - it was Rina. She read you like an open book, making it near impossible for you to keep a secret from her. How you managed to go this long without her figuring out you were hooking up with Gojo was a miracle.

“I just want to know exactly what has been keeping you so busy recently,” she continued, “I’m having a hard time believing it’s work because you would be in a miserable mood if you were spending all your free time at the office.”

“ Or we can talk about how absolutely delicious this is...” you blurted, letting her words travel in your ear and out the other as you pointed at the meal in front of you.

Rina lifted her brow, shaking her head in disapproval. She calmly placed her chopsticks on her plate, leaning forward a little closer to you before hooking her finger in the collar of your shirt and tugging it down to check your neck.

“LIAR!”

You clasped your hand over the mark, your eyes widening as you prodded your best friend with your other finger.

“Oh, you are in trouble!” a sly smile spread across her pretty face, “when did you start dating again? I thought you swore off men after what happened with the fitness instructor..”

“Please don’t remind me of him…”

“Then who is this mystery man that you are hiding?”

You pressed your lips together, hesitant to reveal the truth about the deal you and Gojo had made. Yes, you were having fun together and none of it was supposed to be as serious as you were making it out in your head. In fact, Rina would probably applaud you for initiating this to begin with.

But…

Rina also liked to ask hard questions: why were you using him instead of confronting your heartbreak? Why were you chasing after something false instead of trying for real love again? Do you really want to risk ruining the friendship you both have?

Those were questions that you didn’t have the answers to.

“It’s...It’s some guy at work, you don’t know him…” you stated, finally settling on a good enough excuse to satisfy her curiosity

“How long have you been seeing him?”

“Just a few weeks…” you fibbed.

“Tell me what he’s like?”

“Uhh…he’s fun, I guess …handsome, kind of charming…but it’s only been a few dates, I still don’t really know him well yet.”

You swallowed hard, hating yourself for not having the courage to tell Rina the truth. Your best friend continued throwing questions at you while your brain spat out the answers before you could even think things through, your guilt twisting your insides with all the lies you were spewing.

“I’m sorry for not telling you sooner…”

Rina smiled, placing a hand on your shoulder and giving it a gentle squeeze. “I just want you to be happy. If you like this guy, you should give him a chance. Who knows, maybe this could turn into something serious…”

“I am not really looking for anything serious,” you admitted, allowing yourself to be vulnerable. “At least not right now…”

How could you want something serious after what happened?

You and your ex-boyfriend were together for five years. You met him when you were both at university and he swept you off your feet. His handsomeness showed through his kind personality and he always managed to make you smile. He was your first of many things, including this painful heartbreak.

You hated yourself for getting comfortable with him, for allowing your mind to plan a future that you both could share. You were disappointed that he made you fall in love with him but more so, that he abandoned you to piece together what was left.

You always felt like you never had your closure. When you asked him why he cheated, he never gave you a solid answer. He was ashamed for keeping his infidelity a secret for so long that his only response was a pathetic apology.

Who was this woman that he was willing to jeopardize your relationship for?

Why did he stop loving you?

You blamed yourself because you couldn’t understand.

One minute you were happy and the next you found yourself betrayed in the worst way possible.

You had enough respect for yourself to know that you couldn’t stay with a man who would treat you this way. When you broke up, you expected him to beg for your forgiveness. He was your prince charming, of course he would come crawling back.

You only knew that he had moved on with his lover when you caught the two of them at the supermarket together. They were buying peas, completely entranced with one another and the adoration that your former boyfriend used to look at you with was now passed on to the woman with golden hair.

He was your weakness and you…

You still loved him.

Rina’s eyes shifted to the crowd, pausing when she recognised a face among the sea of strangers.

“Oh! Look who is over there!”

You glanced over your shoulder, following her line of sight until you saw your dirty little secret wave at you from a distance.

Gojo was eating ice cream, mindlessly swerving around the crowd and looking exceptionally fine in his summer fit. Adorned on the top of his head were cat ears, a little souvenir trinket that some of the vendors were selling at their stalls. His free arm was draped across a teen boy’s shoulder, whose unamused face indicated that he was not keen on being here.

“Rina-chan!” Gojo sang as he approached your table, “it’s nice to see you!”

“You too! How are things?”

“Great! Busy with the usual but today I decided to stop by with my student. This is Megumi…”

The boy awkwardly bowed to greet you and Rina.

“It’s nice to meet you both…”

Gojo’s shades slid down his nose slightly, and you caught a glimpse of those blue eyes. When he winked in your direction, you couldn’t help but blush.

“What are you two up to?” he casually asked.

“Well, I finally got Miss “Busy All The Time” to myself today and we just had some okonomiyaki, that guy over there is selling it…”

Gojo hummed and swirled his tongue around his vanilla ice cream before calmly replying, “I know, she’s been so preoccupied lately! Oi, when are we going to have our catch up session?”

Your face grew warmer, Gojo was good at keeping secrets and him playing off like he hasn’t been the one taking up all of your spare time only resulted in you staring at him with furrowed brows.

Thankfully, Megumi interrupted the conversation.

“I’m going to walk around for a bit,” he stated, turning his heel to walk away from your little group.

“I’ll meet up with you in a minute,” Gojo replied with a nod.

“I’m also going to use this opportunity to find the restroom. Gojo can keep you company until I get back,” Rina added, as she stood up from her seat.

Gojo gave her a thumbs up, “happily!”

The sorcerer took Rina’s place, sitting down across from you while his long legs bumped into yours as he adjusted his position. He paused for a moment, watching your friend and his student disperse into the crowd before finally returning his attention back to you.

“Nice outfit by the way but a little warm for today’s weather in my opinion.”

“I wonder whose fault that is…” you mused, pressing your lips together to stop yourself from smiling at his teasing comment, “I bet you think you’re so cute assuming you’re completely innocent in all this.”

Gojo smiled, “Actually, I know I’m cute.”

You couldn’t deny it, even right now as you watched him with those ridiculous cat ears that pulled back his white locks. He definitely was catching the eye of every girl and guy who passed by.

You flicked one of the black ears on his head, “this is a new look for you…”

“I bought it for Megumi but he wasn’t too pleased wearing it around, kept saying that I was embarrassing him...” Gojo explained with a frown.

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on your thighs and bringing the ice cream in his hand to your face.

“Want a taste?” he asked innocently.

Your heart skipped a beat, unaware that Gojo would get this close to you in public. He knew that you hadn't told anybody about what you both have been doing and you wondered if he was deliberately trying to put you in an awkward position. You subconsciously scanned the crowd to see if Rina or Megumi were around.

You tilted your head back slightly before asking, “do you understand the concept of personal space?”

“Relax,” Gojo said in a low voice, “no one is paying attention to us.”

“What if they come back…”

“I’ll see them before they see us,” he replied with confidence, grazing his free hand over your thigh. “Besides, you look like you could use something to cool you off…”

You arched your brow, deciding to give in and play this little flirtation game. You bit your bottom lip, gently wrapping your hand around his slender fingers and slowly leaning forward to lick the ice cream off his cone. You kept your gaze on Gojo, focusing on the devilish smirk that spread across his lips as he watched with approval.

“Mmm, that is good…” you moaned, before looking at him with glittering eyes, “wait, I didn’t get any ice cream on my face, did I?”

Gojo chuckled under his breath, “you’ve got a little something right here…”

His hand moved up to your face, his fingers holding your chin as he brought your lips to his. You inhaled, holding your breath as you were caught off guard by him stealing a kiss. The moment was fleeting and before you knew it, he parted his lips from yours but trailed his hand down your neck to take a peek at the hickey he left on your skin.

“I usually don’t care about where I mark you but if it’s a big concern I’ll make sure to do it in places where only I can see…”

Even though he spoke in a low whisper, you felt like it was loud enough for the whole crowd to hear how flustered you just got by his words.

You cleared your throat, turning your face away from him to regain your composure. “Behave, Satoru…”

“Mmm,” he hummed, “I could keep going but Rina will be back in any minute…”

You sensed a hint of annoyance in his voice when he said that.

The sorcerer leaned back, inviting the space that separated you both as he ate his ice cream with indifference. Sometimes you wish you could flip the switch as easily as he did but you found it impossible.

Rina arrived before you could even respond to his statement.

“What did I miss?” she asked, patting Gojo lightly on the shoulder to request returning to her seat.

“Nothing special,” Gojo answered with a shrug as he stood up , “I think I’m going to head back and find this kid before he leaves without me knowing.”

“Enjoy the rest of your evening! Also, you should stop by the candy shop sometime. I’ve been working on some new treats I think you might like…”

“I will,” he promised, stretching the lying game even further. He proceeded to remove the headband he was wearing, his white hair flopping over his shades as he handed you the cat ears. “Hold on to these for me won’t you…”

You took it, puzzled by the sudden gesture.

“What for?”

“Just an excuse to pick it up from you later,” he remarked innocently, “otherwise I’ll never see you!”

Rina laughed, clearly not catching on to his hidden invitation. Gojo waved goodbye and walked away, leaving you both to return to your date.

For a moment you thought your lie was about to catch up to you but realised that it was easy keeping this secret because nobody would expect you to hook up with Gojo.

You guys have been playing this song and dance for a while, saving your flirtatious banter and curiosities for when you two were alone together. Maybe you’ll come clean eventually, but for now you wanted to enjoy the bubble you were in.

You played with the cat ears in your hand, completely unaware that you were smiling to yourself.

- CHAPTER 7: GAMES -

#Gojo Satoru x reader #Gojo Satoru x you #Gojo Satoru x ofc #Gojo Satoru #Gojo Satoru fan fic #Gojo smut #Gojo fluff #Gojo angst #jjk fanfic #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk x female reader #Gojo Satoru smut #Gojo Satoru fan fiction #jjk

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libraryofnesta · 3 years

Text

Tied to Ruin

ao3 link

Summary:

Cassian and Nesta were lovers, partners in crime. They did everything together. That is until tragedy strikes, causing Nesta to run away, far from everything she once knew.

Over five years later, Nesta is living life to as full as it can get. It’s not until an incident occurs that drags her into far more than she bargained for.

Notes:

thanks so much for reading. i'm a huge hoe for exes to lovers, so i have like 20 ideas in my head, and this is one of them. It's multichapter. i'm not sure how long this is gonna be, but definitely over ten chapter. this fic has two timelines. One will show them from when they're kids to teens, and one while they're adults. Both will occur at the same time, so things will start to unravel as you read.btw! velaris is gonna be like a super small town in new york. like no one knows about it.

TW: implied domestic violence, nothing graphic.

Chapter 1: lonely beds, different cities

Words, how little they mean

When you're a little too late

I stood right by the tracks

Your face in a locket

Good girls, hopeful they'll be and long they will wait

Sad Beautiful Tragic

Taylor Swift

2016, Small Town Velaris

“Please,” she whispers, voice hoarse. Nesta is practically begging at this point, but she has nothing else to relent to. “We can get out of here.” She swallows hard when he doesn’t reply. “We’re still young Cassian, we can still-”

“Nesta.” He says. It's one word, but it makes her pause. He rarely calls her Nesta. It’s always ‘Nes’ or ‘Sweetheart.’

“I can’t.”

Their lives have changed so drastically over the past few weeks. Nesta’s whole childhood is here. Everything she’s ever known. She’s not sure how much more of it she can handle now.

She’s well aware of the tears streaming down her face. Nesta doesn’t know what she can say to convince him, so she says the one thing that she’s been repeating over and over.

“You can…”

Cassian’s face seems to harden. The look he gives her makes her take a step back. He hasn’t looked at her like that in years. “Go ahead and leave Nesta.”, he says, voice rising. “Go live that picture perfect you always wanted. I won’t stop you.”

“Not everyone wants what you do.”

2021 New York, Manhattan

Something about leaving Valkyrians still makes her feel at odds. She’s not as resistant to the sight of blood anymore, and she’s not sure if she can ride a motorcycle as well as she used to. There are still parts that linger though. She still remembers how to throw a punch. A damn good one too. She still feels uneasy when someone walks in the same direction for too long though. It might be the worst part of it all.

Nesta doesn’t do much for fun. She doesn’t dance as much as she likes. The amount of books she reads has decreased. Her days consist of work and eating, even though she skips more meals than she should. But she’s free. That’s what really matters, doesn’t it?

The muscles in Nesta’s body ache. She just finished a seven hour shift, and got a promotion that pays much better. Nesta wants to celebrate. She wants to talk to someone. It’s been so long since she’s talked to anyone. The fear of someone finding out about her past is lodged so deep in her head it caused her to isolate. The simple way of putting it is she has no friends.

Coworkers are the only source of non-work related conversation she engages in. It’s always small talk too. Just as Nesta is about to fall asleep, she rubs her eyes and forces herself to stay awake. Getting up from the lumpy couch, Nesta walks to her cabinet, grabbing a random mug and pouring wine into it. Once she gets a better look at the mug, she can’t help but scoff.

It’s ironic. Complaining about being lonely. It’s almost like she chose loneliness. She loves the quiet. When she was younger, all she wanted was alone time. She dreads it now. Nesta gets up after finishing her glass. She’s a bit drowsy, and is way too tired to walk all the way to her room. Instead Nesta walks back over to her couch. She lies horizontally, staring into the abyss until she eventually falls asleep.

She dreams of seeing him that night. It’s a regular occurrence. It’s lessened over the years, but never fully disappeared. The image of him is blurry. It’s not as precise as it used to be. She hates still thinking of him. It doesn’t stop her from reminiscing a little though.

Her being upset makes sense of course. They’d known each other for over ten years, hating one another at first. Eventually, he began to grow on her. Their bickering had become playful, before they once again became estranged.

“Cassian?”

The figure turns around, and he knocks the wind out of her. His hair is out of it’s usual bun. He gives her that familiar boyish smile, walking towards her and putting an arm on her.

“Missed me Sweetheart?”, he says, ruffling her hair a bit. Nesta scrunches her nose in response.

“You wish.”

He rolls his eyes. “Yeah yeah whatever.” He talks for a while. Nesta’s barely paying attention. It’s just nice to hear his voice again. He asks her what she’s reading, and she replies the same every time. It’s silent after a while. They’ve talked themselves out. It’s a nice silence though. Her favorite silence.

Cassian stares at her for a few seconds, giving her a soft smile and pushing a loose hair behind her ear.

“Come back,” he whispers.

Her breath stutters. “It’s been five years, Cass,” she mutters, breaking eye contact. Her eyes flicker between the ground and his face, gauging his reaction.

He doesn’t stop looking at her.

“I didn’t want to leave,” said Nesta. There’s a lump in her throat.

He scrubs a hand over his face. “Yet here we are.”

“You know why I left.”

Her eyes feel like they’re beginning to water. “I asked you to come with me. You’re the one who didn’t.”

Cassian looks to the side. He looks impassive, yet also emotionless. “You’re the one who ran away, Nesta.”

“I didn’t run away.”

He scoffs in response. “Keep telling yourself that.” Cassian starts walking away. It’s cloudy and has no solid ground or sky. At that moment she remembers where she really is. Nesta stands there, waiting until he fully fades away. It always feels too real.

The dreams always end like that.

Nesta can barely pry her eyes open when she wakes up. She has the next two weeks off. Her boss, Helion, had insisted she take a week or two off, since the bar was under a small renovation. She checks her phone and it reads 12:03. Jesus, she really had overslept.

In all honesty Nesta had no idea what to do with her free time. Maybe she’ll finally finish that book she started months ago. But in reality Nesta knows all she’ll do is go to a bar and let a stranger fuck her into oblivion until she kicks them out or leaves.

By the time Nesta leaves her house it’s around 3:00. She goes to the coffee shop next door. She orders a coffee and sits in the corner of the room. Nesta somehow feels like the center of attention. It’s an empty shop, but it feels like all eyes on her. The room feels too cold.

The feeling follows her when she goes to the local bookstore. It’s crowded, but the area is quiet. Nesta browses through the shelves, sticking to the romance section. She holds a few books. It’s not until Nesta drops one, people begin to look at her. It makes a loud thump hitting the floor. Several pairs of eyes turn to her. The cover is of a shirtless man too.

Fuck , she thinks, This is embarrassing. Nesta purses her lips, hand curling into a fist as she puts the book back on it’s shelf.

It’s around 5:00 when she takes the train home. Nesta spent the rest of her day at the park, not wanting to stay at home. It doesn’t feel like home as much as she’d like it to though. Finally, Nesta makes it home.

She’s in an empty parking lot. The area she lives in is pretty small. Nesta knows basically everyone in her apartment complex. It’s a tiny place. She never talks to anyone, but they do acknowledge each other. Barely anyone has a car either, herself included. So it is a bit weird to see an unrecognizable car. It’s odd, but Nesta thinks nothing of it. It’s probably just someone visiting.

Nesta goes into her apartment, before leaving once more to go to the bar that’s the second closest to her apartment. She’s usually working at this time, flirting with customers and taking them home when her shift ends.

The bar is crowded and loud. Lights are flashing, voices yelling, bodies moving. It’s out of her comfort zone. She’s been doing this for years and is still isn’t used to it. She sits on one of the stools where the drinks are served. A girl approaches her. Nesta never approaches anyone. She can’t see clearly in the light. The girl’s hair is brunette, though her roots are dark. Her brown skin illuminates in the flickering light.

“Hey”, she says “I’m Nora” Nora extends her hand to her. Nesta smirks in response, resting her elbow on the counter grasping her hand with the other.

“I’m Mila,” she says. No matter what she does, Nesta will never use her real name. Nora’s eyebrows raise. Nesta can see her lick tongue move as it pushes on her skin.

“Pretty name.”

They talk for around five minutes. It’s all small talk. They drink while they talk. Most of the things she responds with are lies anyways. Nora grasp’s her arm with her hand. “Wanna get out of here?” she asks. Her words are slurred, and Nesta has to restrain herself from flinching.

Something in her head tells her not to let anyone in her house though. Something is wrong, but she can’t put her mind on it. The idea of letting a stranger in her house sends goosebumps across her arms. Before, she’d never question it twice. Now that she thinks of it, doing this practically screams stranger danger. Especially with her past, this person could be anyone. Nesta slowly probes herself from the girl.

“I’ve gotta go”, she says. “Sorry, but there's something I need to do.” The girl doesn't seem to mind, either too drunk to care, or only looking for a one night stand. She nods, before introducing herself to someone else. Nesta feels her chest lighten, exiting the crowded bar to call an uber.

Whenever it’s quiet, she always reminisces.

2006, Small Town Velaris

Nesta wakes up and finds herself stranded. She has no idea where she is. She’s lying in a bed inside a mostly empty room. There’s only a few pieces of furniture, a stool and a drawer. It’s relatively small. The last thing she remembers is being in a car with her sisters and parents. She hears voices outside of the room yelling.

“You expect me to leave-”

“Her father is-”

“She’s nine what would she-”

“So what if she’s young!”

“-s innocent so what if-”

She hears a loud smack. The silence after is deafening. The voices are quiet after, whispers. Afterwards, Nesta hears footsteps approaching. She scrunches her eyes shut, trying to pretend to be asleep. Nesta hears the door open and close. A hand lays on her forehead. As the person removes it, a calming voice talks. “Are you awake?” Nesta slowly looks at the person, opening only one eye, then another. She sees a woman with black hair and tan skin. Her cheeks are flushed and she has a small smile on her face.

The woman squats down so she’s the same height as the bed Nesta is laying on. “Hi,” the woman whispers, voice solemn and comforting. “My names Aurora,” she says. Nesta squishes her lips together. She’s confused and feels like crying. Nesta doesn’t cry though. She’s pretty sure her eyes water though, because Aurora strokes her hair and whispers, “It’s okay to cry.”

Nesta gasps and shakes her head. “Mommy says I’m not supposed to cry.” Aurora seems to be shocked silent. The silence makes Nesta become aware of everything that is happening. She slowly sits up. Once her feet are off the bed, Nesta quickly sprints to the door, opening it and running out. She has no idea where she’s going.

Suddenly, Nesta is hit with a hard impact, and falls down on her butt. She looks up and sees two boys. They’re both around the same height. They have the same dark hair too, except one is longer than the other. Nesta gets up and brushes off the dust on her leggings.

She notices it then. The leggings. She’s never worn pants before.

It’s also when she notices the juice smeared across one of the boy's shirts. It’s the long haired one’s. He drops the red cup to the ground and makes an angry noise. “That was my favorite shirt.”

Nesta feels sheepish as she whispers a quiet, “Sorry.”

The one with longer hair whispers to the other boy, obviously meaning for her to hear too. “She’s probably not even double digits.” The other boy is quiet, looking at the ground. He seems nervous and shy.

Nesta feels a sense of outrage course through her. She pouts, crossing her arms. “I’m almost ten. I’m nine and a half” The boy crosses his arms too.

“Well I’m ten and a half,” he says.

“Cassian,” Aurora scolds. “Play nice.” She puts a hand on Nesta’s shoulder and bends down. “I need to talk to…” She doesn’t continue.

Nesta turns towards her, and realizes she needs her name. “Nesta,” she says.

Aurora smiles, “That’s a wonderful name.”

Cassian still seems angry. “I think it’s stupid.” Aurora sighs and gets up. “Azriel”, she says to the other boy. He hadn’t talked the whole time, Nesta almost forgot he was there. “Make sure he stays out of trouble. And Cassian, please change your shirt.” The two (stupid) boys walk away. Once they’re from a far enough distance, Aurora looks back down at her. “I have to talk to you about something.”

2021 New York, Manhattan

Nesta walks into her apartment tired and half asleep. Once inside her apartment, she changes into more comfortable clothes, sweatpants and a grey t-shirt.

Nesta’s about to go to bed, until she hears the sound of glass shattering and liquid spilling. She freezes, thinking about the mug of wine she left out.

No.

Nesta scrambles towards the kitchen and grabs a flashlight from a cabinet, flashing the light to the ground. The mug is shattered to pieces, and she can still see little droplets of wine. The words aren’t visible anymore, letters broken and unreadable.

There’s no way it could’ve fallen on its own. It was in the middle of her counter. Unless...

Suddenly it all makes sense. The unrecognizable car in the parking lot. The uneasy feeling in her stomach. The constant nagging in her head, telling her that something is wrong.

She thinks about calling the police but goes against it. Years in a fucking biker gang taught her better then to trust those scumbags.

She always kept a gun in her house. Just in case. She really hates how no matter what she does. she’ll always be connected to this.

The person inside her apartment most definitely knows where she is. Nesta grabs a broom, sweeping the glass shards into an empty bag. She can fix it later. Tying it up, Nesta leaves it on her counter.

There's a wall blocking the entrance to her bathroom. She walks towards it, opening and closing the door so it seems she went inside. Grabbing her gun from the small drawer, Nesta lays her back against the wall, barely peeking out the wall, but just enough so she can see them as they crawl out from behind her couch.

The figure moves stealthily, back turned towards her. If she weren’t directly staring at it, there would be no way of knowing it was there. The moves look familiar, but she can’t put her mind on it. The moonlight shines on them so she can see the most obvious features. It’s not until the floor creaks the figure turns towards her direction. Nesta turns back to face her bathroom door, hands drawn to tight fists. There’s no way they hadn’t seen her. She moved too slow. Nesta peeks her head out to look again.

It’s not until she sees a familiar pair of scarred hands in the moonlight, it all comes together.

“Azriel Night?”

In dreams

I meet you in warm conversation

We both wake

In lonely beds

In different cities

And time

Is taking its sweet time erasing you

And you've got your demons

And darlin' they all look like me

PSA!! go to ask’s to be added to tag list

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